I could have watched her for hours, but eventually Virgil came down the steps. He kissed Mary on the cheek and walked away—just kissed her and said goodbye, as though it wasn’t the most precious thing in the world. He worked his way around the park, doubling back so that she wouldn’t see him, but she was buried in her book, holding it close to her eyes, fingers curled around the top of the pages, the way she had read to me when I was a girl, when I knew how to read but pretended I couldn’t, because I was afraid she would stop.

“We should go,” he said. I nodded but didn’t stand, and he didn’t make me. Finally, I rose to my feet and turned away. As we left the park, I cast one more look over my shoulder. Mary stopped reading and rested the book in her lap. She ran her hand through her hair, looked up at the sky, and sighed, eyes closed—a moment of torment or exhaustion or peace. From where we were, I could not tell.

Virgil slipped his hand into mine, and squeezed. I did not pull away.

Fifteen

I found Juliette in Turtle Bay, waiting across from the apartment that was not really hers. She stared as I approached, not waving and not smiling, like I was long overdue.

“I said I was going home for the night,” she said. “It isn’t my home.”

“No, it’s not. I suppose I should introduce—”

“Virgil Carr. We’ve met before—on Christmas, a long time ago.”

“You’re Galen Copeland’s girl.”

“Not quite.”

“How did you work it out?” I asked.

“I took my time walking home. By the time I got here, it was dawn, and Papa—my dead papa—was leaving for work, walking alongside a woman who looked rather a lot like me.”

“Are you all right?”

“My nerves are singing. To see him like that, so full of life. It was simply . . .”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea how to get us home?”

“I’ve almost got that figured out,” I lied. In that moment, I didn’t care about escaping this terribly pleasant city. I just wanted to stop the bleeding. “Until then, you can’t spend the whole day sitting on this stoop.”

“Truly, I am fine.”

“You deserve a few hours’ sleep. Virgil, what would Mary say if Juliette appeared at the house and said you had sent her?”

“She wouldn’t say a thing,” said Virgil. “She would fix you breakfast, draw you a bath, and have you tucked into a warm bed before you had a chance to thank her.”

“That sounds,” said Juliette, “like heaven.”

We gave her directions, and Virgil handed her his spare key. She would enjoy a taste of heaven, while we rode north to hell.