“We can’t leave her here.”
“We have to, Rosie.”
I know ’tis the truth, but I can’t bear to let go. When he gathers me to him and she is left alone there, I feel something inside me break. God forgive me. ’Tis my heart.
Me and Damien are left standing at the locked gate, blinded by darkness and tears and the worst feeling of dread. We’re going to die. I want to die of old age in Damien’s arms, not curled up and alone on the dirt, blood spilling from my body. Oh, God above, Bianca! How did it come to this? How are you dead? How can it be that I’m standing here in the dark dirt tunnel, terrified for me, for Damien, and for the tiny heartbeat drumming away inside me? But ’tis surely happening, and from the look on Damien’s face, we have run out of options.
“Rosie, I can’t open the gate,” Damien tells me.
“What?”
“?’Tis locked.” He sounds bewildered. “It’s never locked.”
We’re lost. They’ll kill us both, I’ve no doubt. I stare at the black metal latch holding the gate closed, then something clicks in my head. Panic makes way for hope, and I drop the sack I’ve been carrying. On my knees, I dig through it and find the black book. My hands are shaking wildly, so it’s hardto get control of it at first, but then I flip it open. From the wee pocket inside the back cover, my trembling fingers pull out the little brass key. The one I’d stared at for so long, wondering what on earth it was for. All of a sudden, it makes sense.
“Try this.”
Damien regards me with the loveliest expression of gratitude. “You’re one-of-a-kind, Rosie Ryan.”
The shouting behind us is louder now. Is it the police? Is it Mr. Carboni’s men? I fear the latter might be worse. More than seeing us locked up, what Mr. Carboni wants most is his book. Well now, I think, regretting the past day more than ever, he can have it. I don’t want it. I never wanted nothing to do with any of this. I crouch and run my fingers along the cracked wall until I find a break in it, and I tuck the book inside. I hope no one ever finds it. Including him. At least it’s out of my hands.
While I’m doing that, Damien shoves the key in the lock and twists it. The gate squeaks open, and we cross through. He closes the gate behind us, then he sticks his hand through the bars and locks it from the other side.
I whisper, “Keep the key!” I hope the men behind us don’t have one. He sees I’m right and he hands it to me. I tuck the little thing away so it’s safe.
Voices echo down the tunnel, sounding like they are on our tail. “Down here!”
“Who’s got the key?” someone bellows.
“We do,” Damien whispers, and I hear the grin in his voice.
We flee through the darkness, toward what Damien promises is freedom, and I notice a lightness around my neck. My hand goes to my throat, but it finds nothing there. My necklace and the beautiful silver locket withRR & DWcarved into it, the dearest thing I’ve ever owned, is gone. It must have fallen off when I held Bianca. I ache to go back and find it, but I keep quiet. What’s the use? I’d never find it in the dark anyway.
“Rosie! Keep up!”
I swallow my tears and chase after Damien, but with every step I think of what I’ve lost. The locket’s gone forever, buried with my best friend and only sister, Bianca. Granny and Mrs. Evans are gone, too. All of them buried, never to be seen again. The world might never remember them, but God help me, I’ll never forget.
chapterTHIRTY-FOUR
The tunnel feels like it goes on forever, but it can only be a few minutes. ’Tis myself that is slowing us, I know. I am falling behind, feeling undone. My heart is broken in so many places it makes my knees weak. I can still hear the crack of Mr. Carboni’s gun in the tunnel when Bianca shot at those men. It was all so terrible, but worst of all was seeing her fall. The emptiness in her face, which was usually so alive with challenge. Her stillness. Hearing nothing but my thundering pulse.
Granny used to say,Sorrow’s a poor companion, but one you’ll never shake.Sure, and she’s right. I know that now. I stop and brace myself against the cold wall with one hand while my stomach threatens to heave. I’m running and crying and trying to think, but I’m near sick now. ’Tis the baby.A child’s the only cure for a broken heart, Granny would say. I put my other hand on my belly, wishing I could touch the little person within.
“I have no time for that, baby. Please.”
The baby must be listening, for the sickness lifts, at least for now. I gasp and start running again.
I hear Damien far ahead. “We’re almost there!” he cries. “I see the end. Are you all right, Rosie? Do you need help?”
“No, no, sure, and I’ll be all right. I’m coming.”
But my arms and legs drag. I feel so heavy. I clutch the thick fur coat around me, and I am so hot I consider dropping it. I’ll tell you this much. I know I’ll need warmth once we are out of here, but the coat weighs the same as a truck. Common sense wins over comfort, and I grab it more tightly around me.
Damien waits ahead, his profile outlined by the light of dawn. He’s waving me toward him, and I long to stand in his embrace and forget all this ever happened. If only I could.
“Come, my love. I’ll help.”
He reaches for my hand, then finally, finally, he holds me. Behind him, I hear the familiar sounds of trains clattering slowly along the tracks of Union Station, carrying on like always. My pulse picks up, hearing all the noise. Anticipation briefly overwhelms my grief and tingles in my fingertips. We’re off, me and him. We are running away together. No one will find us. ’Twill be Damien and me forever. All by ourselves, until this little one is born.
