“And how about Morgan?” he asked.

I looked at him, perplexed. “How about Morgan?”

“How are you doing with finding some peace?”

I shook my head. “Not so well,” I said. “I’m…” I searched for the right word. “I’m ashamed of who I was.”

“‘Was’ is the definitive word in that sentence, Morgan.” He nodded toward the mural. “And I think you’re the perfect person to work on this mural,” he said, with a small smile.

“You do? Why?”

“You and Anna,” he said. “I think it’s safe to say that, for whatever reason, she had her own share of nightmares. I know you already care about her, don’t you?”

I nodded. He was right. I did.

“I have the feeling that if anyone is going to do right by her,” he said, “it’s you.”

Chapter 32. Anna

Chapter 32

ANNA

January 24, 1940

Jesse was lying to her. She’d wanted to believe him when he said he had all those extra periods at school and that was why he was able to spend so much time in the warehouse, coming a couple of hours earlier than Peter each day. She’d wanted it to be the truth. But she’d received a letter from Mrs. Furman, his art teacher, the day before, telling her that Jesse was failing every subject except art. He’s skipping most of his classes, Mrs. Furman wrote. Perhaps I made a mistake, sending him to work with you.

Anna read and reread the short letter, her heart sinking. Yesterday, Jesse’s eyes had been bloodshot from lack of sleep because he’d stayed up late to devour the latest library book she’d brought him.

“I want to learn everythin’,” he’d told her when he arrived in the warehouse. He’d set the heavy book on the Old Masters down on one of the warehouse tables, his hand resting on top of it as if he could soak up everything in its pages through his skin.

She’d been delighted as usual by his enthusiasm. “Which of the artists were you most drawn to?” she’d asked.

“I got a favorite,” he said. “That Vermer fella.”

“Vermeer.” She corrected him with a smile. “And which Vermeer do you like best?” She fully expected him to pick nearly everyone’s favorite, The Girl with the Pearl Earring, but he surprised her.

“I like that Geographer one,” he said. “I like how the light is comin’ through the window with all them little panes.” He glanced down at the book. “I looked at it for a hour last night,” he said. “I wanna know how to paint like that.”