Tessa thrust the armload of canned goods at him, then picked up a small box. She jumped down from the wagon, box in hand, and started for the door of the office.
“We’re not finished,” David reminded her, his arms full of food. “Where are you going?”
‘To make some tea.” Tessa waved the box at him. “I wasn’t planning to unload everything. I just wanted to find the tea. My mother always said problems seemed clearer over a cup of strong tea.” She paused in the doorway, turning to look at David. “I need to see my way clear.”
David followed her inside. He set the canned goods on the table next to the flour and watched as Tessa filled a kettle with water for tea. Now that Coalie was gone, she’d have to deal with him. He needed more answers.
“I’m sorry about Coalie, Tessa. I know you’ll miss him. I’ll miss him, too. But I think you’re wrong about Kincaid.” David watched her expressive face for a reaction. “He doesn’t seem like the sort of person who would steal a child.”
“People steal children for lots of reasons.” Tessa spoke as if she knew. “Sometimes they steal them when their owners won’t let them go.”
“Owners?” David asked. “Don’t you mean parents?”
“No. I mean owners—men who take little children from orphanages, then put them to work at all sorts of horrible jobs.” The water began to boil. Tessa lifted the kettle from the stove and set it aside while she measured the tea.
“Coalie isn’t your son. Why did you steal him?” David asked softly.
Tessa stopped.
“Give me a reason, Tessa. One simple reason.” He recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same look she’d worn yesterday morning when he kissed her—cautious and wary, yet soft, vulnerable. He wanted to take her in his arms again and kiss away the fears, the apprehension.
“Because his owner beat him.” She whispered the words quietly, defeated. She’d been holding them inside too long. “Because that angry brute of a man beat Coalie every single day of his life. For working too slow, for working too fast, for smiling, for crying, for breathing. I was afraid one day he’d kill him. I used to watch for Coalie from my window every morning. He delivered coal to our apartment.” Tessa sighed. She knew she was taking a chance, but she was willing to gamble. By now Coalie was far away from Liam Kincaid. She would trust David with her story and hope he understood why she’d had to break the law. And hope, too, that David wasn’t working with Liam.
“Of course,” David murmured in awe. He should’ve guessed. “Coalie.”
“Yes,” Tessa said, “that’s what he was called, ‘the coalie.’ The boy who delivers the coal. He doesn’t remember his real name. Just Coalie.”
“So he came to your apartment? That’s how you met him.”
“Yes. He was so thin. I’d always save him a pastry or two for breakfast. You know how Coalie loves sweets.” She smiled. “Eamon and I lived above a bakery, you see, and I often bought day-old bread and pastries.” Tessa spooned tea leaves into the teapot. “Would you like some tea?”
David nodded. “After all the trouble you’ve gone to to get it, why not? If you guarantee it will help me see my way clear, too.” He managed a smile.
She added another spoonful of tea to the pot. “I tried to buy Coalie’s work contract. I spent nearly all my savings. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking up one morning to find another little boy delivering the coal. The man Coalie worked for was so mean and big.”
“Like Arnie Mason?”
“Bigger.” Tessa shuddered. “Coalie nearly always had a black eye and horrible bruises.”
David walked to the table. He pushed the sack of flour to one end and stacked the crates on top of one another, clearing space.
Tessa placed the mismatched cups and saucers and two spoons on the table. “Sit down,” she directed.
David seated himself in his usual chair.
Tessa carried the teapot to the table and leaned over him. She liked performing this homey task. She felt a tingle of excitement race through her when she brushed against his shoulder. Her hand trembled a little as she poured the tea.
She filled his cup, then sat down across from him and poured some for herself.
David took a sip of the tea, shuddering at the strong, bitter taste. It was awful, but he couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings by telling her. He’d drink it. Somehow. “I left the sugar on the wagon,” he remembered, “but we’ve got plenty of milk if you want it.” Reaching for one of the cans, he pulled a small knife from his pocket, punched two holes in the top of the milk can, and poured some into his cup. “See?” He held the can so Tessa could see the picture of a cow on the label. “Evaporated milk.”
She took a sip of tea. It was strong and bitter, but she forced herself to swallow it.
“Try it with this,” David urged, passing her the milk.
Tessa poured a small amount into her cup, then handed the container back to David.
Greeley rose from his place atop David’s desk, arched his back, and jumped down. He padded over to the table to investigate the enticing smell, leaping onto David’s lap. David removed his cup, then poured some of the canned milk into his saucer for Greeley. The cat meowed appreciatively as David set the saucer to the side. Greeley leapt onto the table, trotted over to the dish and began to sniff the treat. Tessa watched, fascinated, as David stroked the orange fur covering Greeley’s neck and the edge of one mutilated ear, sipping his tea while the cat lapped up his treat. She liked David’s hands. They were big and strong, but gentle as well. She remembered the way she’d felt when he caressed her, and she envied the ugly orange cat.