At this, Catherine noticed Guy trying to catch her eye. She ignored him. “We were looking for something,” she said. “It was meant to be buried with you.”

His brow furrowed. He contemplated the gravesite once more and drew his lower lip between his teeth. “If I died…,” he began. “If I was… buried here… where is my headstone?”

Catherine swallowed. Quietly, she said, “Your grave was unmarked.”

“Why would I…?” The boy’s chest heaved as he gaped at her. “That can’t be right. None of this is right.”

“I’m sure things will make more sense once your memories return.”

Her words only seemed to agitate him. “How so?” he asked. “What do you expect me to remember?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing terribly grim,” Guy noted. He pulled on his coat, fetching up his hat from the grave’s edge. “You built coffins, I’m told. An apprentice, perhaps, at your age. If you had no family, you simply might not have been able to afford proper burial.”

The boy’s breath caught. He said, “Family.”

Catherine heard the hope in those few syllables. She had to tamp it down before it solidified into something that could be crushed. “You’ve been in the ground a long time,” she said. “If you did have a family, they may not—that is, they may no longer be living.”

Fear dawned on his face, plain even in the low light. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “How long a time?” he asked.

“It’s hard to say exactly, but by the state we found you in…” Catherine paused. “I’d wager twenty years or so.”

The boy took a step back, tripped, and sat down rather abruptly. He was shaking, his face white as paper. Guy crouched beside him. “You’ll need a name,” he said gently. “Until you recall your own.” And when the boy said nothing in return, Guy added, “I’m partial to Owen. How about that?”

The boy hunched his shoulders, looking elsewhere. “It’s a fine name, I suppose.”

“It’s settled, then.” Guy held out his hand. “Guy Nolan is mine.”

The boy—Owen—hesitated a brief moment, before clasping Guy’s hand in his. As Guy helped him to his feet, Catherine said, “If you’ll excuse us, Owen. Mr. Nolan and I need a moment alone.”

Guy caught her gaze and nodded. “Of course, Miss Daly.”

Catherine put down her lantern, not wanting to leave the boy in the pitch dark.

She and Guy set off into the night, picking their way around exposed tree roots and flat stone markers. They came to a stop far enough away to be out of earshot but close enough to keep an eye on the boy standing inside the glow of Catherine’s light.

Tipping her chin up, she studied Guy’s face. He placed his hat back on his head, shadowing his eyes. “My father won’t notice if I bring him back to the shop,” he said. “He’ll be safe there.”

“That’s gracious of you, Mr. Nolan, but it still doesn’t solve the matter at hand.”