They made their way to the door. Warm for a November morning, the sun lemony, the air weighted with the smell of lavender, as if it were early spring. The man was nowhere in sight. The crowd outside the waiting room swelled.

"The mother must be frantic by now. Any moment she'll appear, flailing her arms and shrieking. Let's see if we can get through these people," Renata said.

Rosa muttered, "Oldest trick in the book and the great wizard falls for it."

"Excuse us," Serafina said as they wedged through a small opening. She tripped on a bag. As the contents spilled out, the owner blocked their way, yelled in dialect.

"Someone's life strewn before you, and what do you do?-step on it!" Rosa said.

"You fat cow, you pushed me." Serafina felt her jaw tighten. Her movements were sharp, she knew.

"Enough, both of you." Tears pooled in Renata's eyes. She and Tessa bent down to help the woman. Renata murmured something to her. She looked up at Renata and smiled. "Si!" She closed up the bag and scurried off.

Renata stood. "You two: act your age!"

Serafina and Rosa looked at each other. Rosa made a face at the infant. Serafina laughed. Rosa waved the air away. Tessa laughed.

"This way, everyone." Renata led them around the side to the platform.

Serafina told them to look around for a short man wearing a cap. Rosa said something about all men being short and wearing caps. Serafina was about to correct the madam when a high-pitched whistle pierced her ears. Steam and smoke engulfed them as the train pulled into the station and stopped.

People jostled their way to the front. Tessa and the three women were no match for the peasants.

"Help me find the father of this baby," Serafina said to a porter. "I held the baby while he went to looked for-"

"-his wife and sister who returned home for one last look?" the porter asked.

"Oh, thank the Madonna, he told you to look out for us!"

His smile was lopsided. "You won't find him here."

Serafina said, "No, you don't understand-"

"Oh, I understand. He's not here."

Conductors helped the last of the passengers squeeze onto the train. One signed to the engineer, and the doors closed.

People hung out of open windows, waved handkerchiefs, cried, blessed the air. A porter near the engine yanked two young boys off the cowcatcher, handed one to a conductor, and lifted the other up by the seat of his pants. They ran back to a third-class car and shoved the boys through an open window. Serafina saw passengers standing in aisles, wedging themselves between cars, sitting on the roofs.

Confusion on the platform. A fight started. A whistle, a blast of steam, the world stilled for an instant. Slowly the wheels began to turn. People cheered, cried, blew kisses, waved handkerchiefs.

Serafina stood until the stack of steam disappeared behind San Calogero, anger crowding disbelief. Her face paled. The baby slept. She turned to Rosa. "I'm so sorry, my true friend. Of all people, I should have known."

"No matter." Rosa waved the air with circling gestures, hugged Serafina, Tessa and the baby.

"Follow us." Renata and Tessa navigated the way to a conductor selling tickets. Tugging his sleeve, Renata said, "Can you tell me the time of the next train to Palermo? We couldn't board this one-too crowded. May I exchange these?"

The conductor peered at the three women, consulted the filigree dials of a large watch. "In an hour fifteen."

"And after that?" Renata asked.

He bent to scratch an ankle. "Well, there's one at eleven, one at-"

"Four round trips on the eleven o'clock, please."

"Make them first class and give the tickets to me," Rosa said. She held out coins.

His mouth worked as he studied Rosa.

Taking Tessa's hand, Rosa said over her shoulder, "We'll meet you here at ten fifty. Don't be late."

The Orphanage.

Seated in the parlor of Guardian Angel, Renata and Serafina waited for Mother Concetta.

The baby began to cry.

"There, there, little one," Serafina said. She got up and began walking back and forth with him. Each time she patted the infant, the infant cried.

The door opened. Mother Concetta entered, stooped, shorter, and more wrinkled than Serafina remembered, but the eyes were the same.

Serafina explained the baby in her arms. Without a word the old nun rang the bell, and in a few moments, a child of about six appeared, wearing a resized dress. Pushing strands of hair away from her face, she stood, still and solemn, before the nun.

"You are in charge of our newest orphan. One, get him fresh clothes and another diaper. Two, give him a bath. Three, give him to Grandma Colletti, he needs milk. Four, find him a place to sleep. After he wakes up, Dr. Loffredo will need to see him. Get him."

"No more cribs."

"Improvise, child. Put two infants in one crib until the carpenter can make another."

The child nodded.

"And Ave-?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Before you do your improvising, sit down and put your boots on the correct feet."

She sat.

"One more thing."

"Yes, Mother."

"When you remove his diaper, be careful of the burr. Put some salve on the wound."

Throwing a smile over her shoulder, the child disappeared with the howling infant.

"That's the second baby we've gotten from the train station in three months."

"I thought they left them on your doorstep," Serafina said.

"The unmarried do. But a mother who is leaving for a strange land with the rest of her family, afraid for the life of her newborn during the voyage, or too poor to care for another hungry mouth? She doesn't make her decision to leave her baby until the last minute. I can't imagine the depth of her pain. The husband, or someone else in the family, convinces her it would be better for the child if the mother left him behind. So a family member, usually the father, takes the infant to the train station, finds an unsuspecting passenger." She pointed a gnarled finger at Serafina. "Someone like you. Your clothes give you away. The story they tell is the same-the mother is coming any minute, but wants to check the house one more time. The man asks for help calming the baby, then disappears. An old trick played on the naive."

Serafina's cheeks burned.

"The orphanage is full. We need money to pay the wet nurse, to feed them when they are older, to clothe, to teach. Thank the Madonna, God provides."

"And if not?" Renata asked.

"And if not, I go to Palermo and visit the archbishop. The coffers open."

Serafina pursed her lips. "How can a mother abandon her infant like that?"

The nun's battle-ready eyes narrowed in her direction. "Terrible to abandon a child at any age, no matter what the child's done, don't you think?"

Serafina breathed in and out. She heard, as if for the first time, the sound of Carmela's feet running down the stairs, saw Carlo speeding after his twin, returning hours later, admitting that he couldn't persuade her to come back, "Too stubborn, too much like you," he'd said, spitting on the ground before her feet. At Carlo's remark, Giorgio had lifted him by the collar and slapped his face.

Serafina put a hand to her cheek. She must say something to this nun, but what? From somewhere outside she heard running feet, shouting youngsters.

"No running, children!" a voice said.

Serafina's hand flew to her heart. Renata pointed to the door, forms an 'O' with her mouth.

"Were you going to say something?" Serafina asked.

Renata mumbled a reply.

"Your child, for instance," the nun said.

Serafina gripped the side of her chair.

"She's here, you know. Came to us in the spring."

"I...we didn't know."

"Of course not. She didn't want me to tell you."

"But we've been looking for her," Serafina said. She paused before continuing. "To be fair at first only her father, Carlo, and Renata were searching." She heard the heavy beat of her heart, felt the blood in her ears.

Mother Concetta said nothing.

"Does she know about the death of her grandmother? Her father?"

The nun looked at her hands. "She came here after Maddalena's death. I knew they were close. I could not bring myself to tell your daughter about the death of her grandmother. Each time I began talking about her family, she wanted nothing to do with the conversation."

"Her father?"

"She doesn't know of his death, either, but a voice tells me now I was wrong."

Serafina stared at the bowed, veiled head. Perhaps the nun was not such an iron heart. "Does the voice have a wrinkled nose?"

Concetta smiled.

"When can we see her?" Renata asked.

Serafina said, "Can you call her?"

Concetta shook her head. "I'd like to prepare her for your visit. The meeting and your news might be too much of a shock in her condition."

"What's wrong with her?"

"No cause for alarm, but sit down, please."

The Train to Bagheria.

The air smelled like burnt oil as they rocked back and forth on plush seats while the world outside their window blurred. Serafina and Renata sat on one side facing Rosa and Tessa. Rosa swayed this way and that. She hung onto her hat for most of the ride.

When Renata told her about the orphanage and their conversation with Mother Concetta, Rosa was full of questions. She wanted to hear all about Carmela.

"We haven't seen her yet," Renata said. "Tomorrow the whole family goes. We've received permission to take Giulia and Maria out of school for the day."

Serafina said nothing. Thinking of tomorrow made stomach queasy.

Rosa and Renata exchanged a look.

Tessa played with her doll.

Serafina looked out the window. She vowed not to be distracted from her work, not today. Towns dotted the hills next to orange groves and olive trees. In the distance, she spotted a peasant leading a pair of oxen. On the other side of the car, there was an abrupt drop to the sea.

No one spoke until Renata opened Rosa's basket of bread and figs, not a meal but a snack before dinner. If they had enough time after meeting with the Baldassare brothers, they'd eat a little something in La Vucciria-paneddi and babbaluci washed down with a house wine. Later they'd buy cannoli from the convent of St. Dominic.

Serafina told Rosa about her brush with the deserter.

Rosa clenched her chest. "Anything to do with the murders?"