were wreathed in shadow, but enough moonlight showed her an orderly bedroom, where the dining room should have been. She shook her head over the strips from an army blanket tacked over the windows, probably to ensure darkness for daytime naps after nighttime duty. She knew she was the only one in the house, but she still tiptoed down the hall to peer into the clinic for dependents. There were other rooms upstairs, probably empty.
She went into the parlor again. No pictures, no paintings, only a calendar. The books were mainly medical texts, with some Dickens and Victor Hugo, battered and looking much like a veteran of the late war, when Les Misérables had been all the rage. Still, the armchair was comfortable. She curled up in the big chair, her legs tucked under her, and fell asleep.
When she woke, dawn had not yet come. She hurried to build up a fire in the cookstove, which would have received a failing grade in her own kitchen back in Carlisle. At least he had the basic army food: dubious sowbelly, but enough flour and sugar to make muffins with Emily’s apricots. By the time Susanna found the baking powder, the small oven was hot enough. She knew better than to look for a muffin tin. She let herself out the back door and found one in Emily’s kitchen.
While the muffins baked, Susanna brewed coffee, breathing in the soothing aroma. She located three cups, one with a drastic chip in it, which she threw away. She poured herself a cup, sipping and staring at a mysterious furry mound that might have been bread once. She wondered what on earth he ate.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooling muffins and hot coffee when she heard the front door open. Suddenly shy, and doubting the wisdom of her good intentions, Susanna considered darting out the back door. “Tell me this isn’t a mirage,” spoken in the dark with a Virginia drawl, stiffened her spine.
“It’s not,” she said, coming out of the kitchen. “I thought you might want something besides horrid oatmeal.”
He was indistinct in the dark because she had doused the parlor lamp. She came closer, still hesitant, taking her time. Joe hadn’t moved from beside the door, although he had closed it. Maybe he thought he was in the wrong quarters.
“You know, the muffins in the kitchen won’t stay warm forever,” she suggested, hoping to jog him into action.
“I’m so tired, Suzie.”
That was all she needed to know. She unwound his muffler and unbuttoned his overcoat, helping him shrug out of it. She steered him toward the kitchen, where he sat down heavily.
“There isn’t any butter, but I did find some honey,” she said, putting four muffins before him and a cup of hot coffee, which he sniffed, then sipped cautiously. His smile was her reward.
The four muffins disappeared and were replaced with two more, and then one. He downed one cup of coffee and was starting on his second when Susanna decided he was patched together enough to talk.
“Well?”
He gazed at her now as though she registered in his tired brain. “I can’t tell you how nice it was to open my front door and take a whiff of someone cares.”
She smiled at that and sat down in the other chair, after removing the medical journals. She dribbled honey on her muffin, and he held out another for the same treatment.
“The … oh, let’s call them ladies … were frantic with worry, so I reassured them that Maddie was in a good place and wouldn’t be returning.” He picked up his cup and stared into its depths for a moment. “No one objected to that. I wouldn’t have cared if they had.”
“Claudine is dead?”
“Apparently it was a more peaceful death than usual from consumption. I think her heart just gave out, which always trumps staring at blood dripping off your chin.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology unnecessary, Dr. Randolph. I wish you could have told her Maddie went to a wonderful couple who will love her forever.”
He took her hand. “I did that anyway, sitting there beside her. I assured her that Maddie had a guardian angel or two. Fifi thought I was barmy. I told Jules Ecoffey he can bury Claudine here, if he is so inclined. I think he will do that. It’s better that Maddie knows where her mother is.”
Without another word, he pushed away the plate in front of him and pillowed his head on