Dr. Anders smiles at me. “I sent Miss Jarvi to the library with some suggestions for research. The Moravian missionaries did have quite a few ties to the Freemasons.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Have you heard from your brother?”
I nod. “They’re keeping him another night.”
Another student elbows me aside to ask an inane question about the sexual symbolism in Cinderella, and I leave, restless and lonely. Ethan is right, I really do need sleep, but I’ve drunk too much caffeine and I’m fidgety.
I look outside the library for Faye’s flock of crows, but I only see a few perched on the roof of the faculty building. I don’t know if they are hers.
19.
Epinephrine
The kitchen is warm from the ovens. Dinner isn’t for another hour but I’m exhausted, running on no energy, and so I rummage in the refrigerator hoping Constance can spare me a snack. My head is ear deep in the crisper drawer when I hear her say, “Boy, you better be here to work. Nobody steals food from Constance’s kitchen.”
“I was going to ask,” I say, already chewing an apple. “I just couldn’t find you.”
“You tell tales,” she says but she’s smiling and I take another bite. “You look tired.”
“Didn’t schleep lascht night,” I say around the apple.
“Follow me. I need to give you something.” I snatch another apple and stash it in my bag. Constance is already across the kitchen, quick on her little legs. She disappears into a small office off th
e main room; I follow. She reaches into her desk. “I think you lost this the other night. It was in the sink.”
I take the small metal charm. “Oh,” I say, pocketing it. “Thank you.”
“That’s yours, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Seems funny for a boy to carry around one of those.” She raises an eyebrow.
“It caught my eye,” I mumble. “Found it on the sidewalk.”
“Miriam always had trinkets like that. Little things she wore around her neck or ankle. She was always into the voodoo.”
“Miriam—Sonja’s mother?”
“Miriam loved the old ways. Still does, I suppose.” Constance gestures to a photo pinned to the board behind her head. It’s covered in schedules and receipts. Several snapshots peek out from under the clutter. I look at the one she’s pointing to and stop short.
“That’s Miriam?” The woman next to a younger Constance is pretty with smooth brown skin. Her hair is in tiny braids that hang to her shoulders. I blink, try to shake the exhaustion from my brain. “This is Sonja’s mother?”
“Gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“She works here? For the college?”
“No, not anymore. She works for the state, now.”
I nod, staring at the picture. The half-eaten apple is slimy my hand. “I guess I should go,” I say. “Thanks for finding the charm for me.”
“Anytime. Just ask before you go digging in my refrigerator next time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I start to walk away from the office, trying to keep my feet slow, when all I want to do is run.
“Ethan,” she calls when I’m at the back door. I pause, my hand on the knob. “You be careful and stay out of trouble. And get some sleep.” I nod before pushing the door open. I step out into the afternoon sun, but it doesn’t warm the knot of cold that has turned the apple sour in my stomach.