Chapter Thirteen
IN THE QUIET OF THE house the next day, while Max was working and Anna was outside with her friends, Delia opened one of the newspapers at the kitchen table.
For a moment, she let herself wallow in the familiar.
She turned the pages with a smile, enjoying the scent of newsprint and picturing the men at the newspaper office hard at work.
When she got to the page where her article usually appeared, she drew in a nervous breath.
There it was. The Ladies’ Corner by Miss E.
When Roy suggested a nom de plume of sorts, Delia had agreed, thinking that a degree of anonymity would ensure she could be honest in her writing.
The last thing she wanted was for everyone she knew to disengage with her upon learning she’d become a newspaperwoman.
The article was one she’d left for Roy to publish before she’d come west. Delia quickly opened the second newspaper and flipped to the page where her article would be.
This one was a reprint of one she’d written over a year ago, a piece on whether gentlemen really noticed a lady’s table etiquette or not.
Roy must have printed every article she’d left for him, and now he’d resorted to reprints.
He was waiting for her reports from Crest Stone, or he would have replaced her column with someone else.
Delia felt badly, leaving him with nothing. Especially when she had weeks’ worth of articles upstairs in her jewelry box.
She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands.
What was she to do? She had to tell Max, that was a certainty.
But whether he approved or not, she couldn’t bring herself to share anything about him or her life here with strangers in New York.
Perhaps it was selfish, but she wanted to keep it for herself.
She looked up, feeling absolutely certain on at least one thought for a change.
But could she figure out something to write and send to Roy—something less personal? Or was she finished with her career as a newspaperwoman forever?
The last thought sent a cascading wave of sadness through her. Could she be happy without writing for the paper? Would the emptiness pass?
Delia honestly didn’t know.
Deciding that she needed to do something else to keep from worrying over the subject for the rest of the day, she went outside to find Anna.
She could teach Anna how to bake bread. That was a useful skill, and it required concentration, something Delia desperately needed to clear her mind at the moment.
Anna was nowhere to be seen.
Delia circled the house, but there was no sign of Anna or her friends. Thinking that they must have gone to one of the other children’s homes, Delia went back inside for gloves and a hat before setting off down the road.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d spoken with two other mothers—and no one knew where the children were.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Delia reassured Mrs. Taylor.
She was more frustrated with Anna for not telling her they’d left than she was worried for their safety.
After all, what had happened by the schoolhouse wasn’t common, and heaven help any man who tried to rob three scrappy children who had nothing to give him.
Promising to send their children home once she’d located the trio, Delia set off to find them.
Max would have told her to wait at home, that Anna always returned for supper.
But Delia had had enough of the girl’s antics.
Anna understood right from wrong at this point.
She’d been told plenty of times that they needed to know where she was.
She found Anna not far from home at all, walking down the sidewalk as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“Anna Louise Foster.” Delia stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. “Where have you been? You told me you’d be right outside the house. And where are your friends?”
Anna’s face shifted from shame to irritation to looking as if she would bolt. To keep the latter from happening, Delia grabbed hold of her hand. Thankfully, Anna didn’t pull away. Instead, she walked alongside Delia.
“They went home,” she said, speaking more to the ground than to Delia.
“Good.” Delia waited for more explanation.
A few moments passed as they drew closer to the house. “That isn’t my name,” Anna finally said.
“What do you mean?” Delia paused outside the house.
“Foster. That’s his name. It isn’t mine. I’m Anna Snyder.” The girl drew her hand from Delia’s and crossed her arms.
“All right.” Delia wasn’t certain what else to say to that. She held the door open, and thankfully, Anna went inside. “Was that your mother’s name?” she asked carefully.
Anna nodded as she dropped onto the settee.
“I see.” Delia sat beside her, clasping her hands in her lap. “Do you miss her?”
Anna bit down on her lower lip and looked away. After a few seconds, she nodded.
“I love my mother too. I can’t imagine what it might be like if I lost her. I miss her all the time, living so far away.”
Anna glanced up at her. “Does she sing?”
It was the most unexpected question, but Delia nodded. “She does. I miss that.”
“My mother sang too.”
“Sometimes,” Delia said, a surprise streak of longing biting at the back of her throat. “When I miss her the most, I hum one of the songs she used to sing to me when I was little. It makes me feel a little better, as if she’s right here with me.”
Anna watched her a moment and then nodded.
The quiet stretched between them for a few moments before Delia broke the silence.
“Do you know why your father and I get so upset when you run away or when we don’t know where you are?” she asked.
She was sure Anna would nod. The answer felt obvious, after all. But the girl shook her head.
“We worry,” Delia told her. “It scares us. Your papa especially. He wants so badly for you to be safe and comforted. When he doesn’t know where you are, he becomes afraid that something terrible has happened.”
Anna squinted her eyes, as if what Delia said didn’t make sense. “Really?”
“Yes.” Delia paused, wanting to ask a hundred more questions but also not wishing to make Anna miss her mother even more than she already did.
She also didn’t want anything she asked to come across as criticism.
So, she opted to leave the subject alone.
“That’s why we want to know where you are.
And why we’re upset when you run off. Now, I thought I might show you how to bake bread, if you’d like. ”
Anna smiled. “Yes, please.”
Delia led the way to the kitchen, tucking away what she’d learned to share with Max later.