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Josh went and held a chair for Tilda. He had manners, even if some of the fancier ones had a little rust on them.

Ben sat down across from Tilda.

Gretel poured coffee for all of them, then said, “I’ve got things to do at home. Rick is with the little ones while they nap. I need to check on them all, but I’ll be back in plenty of time to finish supper.” She slipped out the back door.

A thoughtful woman, Gretel Steinmeyer. Leaving so they could talk about things that might be very private. Josh should probably leave too, but he intended to stick by Tilda no matter what.

Tilda held her coffee mug in both hands, as if she were desperate for some warmth, and looked at Ben. Wordlessly, Josh came and sat beside Tilda. Rather closer than he probably should have, but he was there to support her, and this felt like the right way.

Quietly, Tilda said, “What did you mean, ‘both our mothers’?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” said Ben, “but, Tilda, I’m here to take you home. Father is getting up in years. He’d given up on finding you until he saw your picture in our church.”

“My picture?” Tilda’s brow furrowed.

“There was a picture taken of you surrounded by children, getting ready to board an orphan train.”

“Oh, I remember when that was taken. I’d never even seen a camera before that day.”

Ben turned to pick up a satchel that sat on the floor at his feet. He unbuckled a leather strap holding down a flap and reached inside. He pulled out a thin sheet of metal a bit smaller than a sheet of paper, then turned it on the table and slid it across.

Tilda looked into her own eyes. Her heart twisted as she remembered the moment.

The man with his pushcart. Mrs. Worthington saying the children should have their picture taken since it would maybe garner donations for the orphanage.

But Mrs. Worthington, who was also in the picture, looked a bit sad as the children clustered around Tilda.

Tilda had been working for the orphanage for over a year, ever since her adoptive parents had died.

She’d traveled with the orphans before. But this was the first trip where she was in charge.

Though Mrs. Worthington worried over what life had in store for the children, she believed in finding good homes for them and getting them out of New York City, to where the air was clean and the streets safe.

Josh said, “Thayne and Lock are there, too.”

Tilda studied the group, remembering the children. What a wonder it was to be able to take a likeness of someone this way. She looked up, straight at her brother. “And you saw this picture?”

“Yes, accompanied by a small sign asking our church members to consider supporting the orphanage. A photograph is unusual, and it drew a lot of attention. I looked at it and saw you and knew...” Ben rested his hand on Tilda’s. “I knew I’d found my sister.”

Tilda looked at him, then at the picture again. She didn’t know what to say.

“I brought it to Father’s attention,” Ben continued, “and he went about half mad with excitement. The picture had been taken from church to church to raise donations, so by the time we saw it, you had been gone from the orphanage for weeks on a trip to chase after some runaways. But Mrs. Worthington said she expected you to return, though she couldn’t say when, and she wasn’t sure where your travels had taken you.

Father left our name with her, and we waited anxiously.

If I’d known where to go, I would’ve come tearing out here after you.

As soon as I had a location and heard that you might remain here for a time, I headed west. I wired Mrs. Worthington as I traveled to see if you were heading back, thinking to find you along the way.

I was halfway here when she told me where you were staying. ”

Nodding, Tilda said, “Why was I in an orphanage ... while you seem to have grown up in prosperous surroundings?”

“Our real mother, the woman who gave birth to us, was Father’s mistress.”

Tilda flinched at that, yet she suspected a good many of the children on the streets of New York City had less than reputable backgrounds, or they wouldn’t have ended up being abandoned.

“Father’s a typical wealthy man. His version of the story is that he thought there was nothing wrong with keeping a mistress.

Our mother was an actress and a beautiful woman.

Then Father married a woman who was a Christian.

” Ben gave a small but genuine smile. “She demanded fidelity. He supported our mother, but they quarreled when he broke off their relationship, and she cut him off from us. When she died, I was old enough that I understood where her money had come from and who my father was, so I contacted him.”

“But why wasn’t I with you?”

Ben swallowed hard and squared his shoulders as if needing to muster the courage to go on.

“Our ma wasn’t a fine sort of woman. She got money from Father, yet she didn’t spend much of it on us.

She...” He lapsed into silence and rubbed a hand over his face.

“She kept us until the year you turned four. The drink had gotten the better of her by then, and she was given to fits of rage. One day she left. It wasn’t uncommon for her to do that and sometimes be gone for days.

But this time she took you with her and came back without you. ”

Tilda shook her head silently for so long, Josh was ready to hold on to her lest she fall apart.

“M-my earliest memories are of living on the streets of New York City.” Tilda’s eyes seemed to focus inward as she tried to figure out what had been done to her.

“Ma,” said Ben. “We called our father’s mistress ‘Ma.’ And we called his wife, who took over and raised us when Ma died, ‘Mother.’ Ma said she’d left you in an orphanage, that she couldn’t handle two children at once.

We asked which orphanage because we wanted to bring you home.

I was frantic, demanding that we go find you.

The things she said, Tilda! It was so awful, and I kicked up such a fuss, she said I’d be next to go.

Then she left again and was gone for days, leaving me with no food in the house.

I wanted to go to the orphanage to live with you. ”

We asked ... We wanted ... Josh couldn’t help but wonder how many more children Ma had had after Tilda was left there at the orphanage.

Tilda let go of her mug and buried her face in her hands.

“I have no memory of you. A four-year-old should remember, shouldn’t she?

And I’ve no memory of an orphanage, assuming Ma even brought me to one.

My earliest memories are of living on the streets.

I went to an orphanage later, after I got swept up with a group of children and sent there.

That place was miserable. There wasn’t enough food, and the rooms were overcrowded.

I ran away and lived on the streets again for a couple of years before getting swept up a second time.

I was adopted when I was ten and lived with an older couple whose children were grown.

Mr. Muirhead died when I was fifteen. Mrs. Muirhead died two years later when I was seventeen. ”

Josh didn’t hear much affection in her tone for her adoptive parents. He wondered how well she’d been treated as their daughter. It was probably better than the orphanage or the city streets, but it didn’t sound as though she’d found a child’s dream of home.

Tilda took a long sip of her coffee, then set the tin mug down with a hard click. “Do you think she just dropped me off on a street somewhere and left me? And why don’t I remember you?” Her eyes narrowed. “I must have some buried memories.”

“A four-year-old should have a few memories,” Ben said, “but I was older, so I remember you well. Ma, well, she had a taste for gin. She began drinking more heavily and was gone more and more. Then she died. I was ten and could read by then. Ma had sent us to school mainly to get rid of us. She had no liking for children, but she did like Father’s money coming in monthly.

Years before she died, I’d found papers in a drawer that told me Father’s name.

After she died, I found him. Father came and got us and was shocked to see how we lived.

He said he’d paid well enough that we could have afforded a decent apartment and plenty of food. ”

“He’d never come to see you?”

“I remembered him from before you were born, but he quit coming when he got married. When he realized you’d been sent to an orphanage...” Ben lapsed into silence. They all looked at each other.

“He took you in?” Tilda asked.

“Yes, and if there was trouble with Mother accepting us, we never heard of it. There had been no children between her and Father, and she treated us as if we were her own. Father spent the rest of his life visiting orphanages in search of you, all over the city. He’d give up, then go back to searching, then he’d give up again.

He did this all our lives ... until I saw that picture of you and the orphans. ”

Shaking his head, his voice became filled with wonder.

“It was overwhelming. We were so excited. One reason Father didn’t come here with me was because he thought someone should stay back east in case I missed you.

” Ben reached across the table and took a firm grip of her wrist. “Let’s go home, Tilda.

Right now, today. Father will welcome you with open arms. So do I.

I love you. I finally have my sister back. ”

Josh reached behind her, trying to be discreet, and touched her back. Instead of being comforted, Tilda lurched to her feet. “Well, I don’t know you, Ben. I don’t love you, and you do not have me back.”

* * * *