Ginny giggled nervously, letting her fingers trail down Lindsay's arm, punctuating the motion with a gentle squeeze when she reached a slender wrist."No. No. No. You don't understand."She cupped Lindsay's cheek, enjoying the warmth against her palm, inordinately pleased that Lindsay hadn't so much as blinked at the gesture. I don't want to stop touching you. So she didn't. Boldly, she traced Lindsay's slightly askew nose with a single, gentle finger, feeling the bump where it had so recently been broken. She smiled at the contented sigh that greeted her actions."The kiss was beautiful."She gazed into the dark eyes so close to hers for confirmation."Wasn't it, Lindsay?"

Lindsay could only nod, dizzy with relief. Ginny had felt it too."Beautiful."

Ginny smiled again and eased back onto her side. She dropped her hand from Lindsay's face, missing the feeling of smooth skin instantly. She felt giddy and tired and happy and as though the small space between them was far too much. Ginny shifted her pillow until it touched Lindsay's. She peeked up at her friend from beneath rusty-red lashes. "Is this-?"

Lindsay laughed fondly. I want to be close to you too."It's good."She lay down facing Ginny, their heads only inches apart."Good night, Ginny," she murmured, her mind spinning with possibilities, first and foremost of which was, when could they do that again.

The younger woman's hand inched forward and she threaded her fingers through Lindsay's. I kissed her! Her eyes slid shut, a wide, obnoxiously happy smile still gracing her face."Good night, Lindsay."

There would be time for questions and insecurities, doubts and fears, to rear their ugly heads-later.

The following morning, however, when the sun spilled into the small room in an orphanage in Queens, it found two young women fitted snugly together, warm, safe, and dreaming of sweet kisses yet to come.

Ginny yawned, keeping her eyes firmly closed. She could feel the warmth of Lindsay's body pressed tightly to hers and the kiss from the night before came flooding back to her, sending a jolt of swirling heat to her belly. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to find Lindsay's unfocused eyes watching her, an intent, almost curious look on her face."What are you thinking?" Ginny asked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Something snapped behind dark eyes and in an instant Lindsay was drawn into the present."I... I dunno. I was just daydreaming, I guess." She smiled hesitantly, already wondering if the kiss they shared last night would go unacknowledged.

"Mmm."Ginny stroked Lindsay's palm with her fingertips."Good dreams?"

"Some."

They could hear the rustle of activity outside their room, but the day before Christian had assured them that getting thirty children dressed and ready for the day meant that breakfast wouldn't be served until nearly eight a.m. They had time, and Ginny didn't want to waste the intimacy she could feel flowing between them on idle chatter."Tell me about your family," she urged cautiously, well aware that her previous inquiries had been met with humorous quips meant more to distract than inform. C'mon, Lindsay. Let me know you.

Lindsay drew in a deep breath, not especially surprised by the question. Ginny was the curious sort and she hadn't missed her gentle probing over their time together. It wasn't really that her past was secret. Not at all. There just wasn't much to tell, and a part of her thought that maybe Ginny would find the mystery of not knowing more intriguing than the plain truth. She exhaled, defeated by the hopeful, blue eyes gazing into hers."What would you like to know?"

Ginny tried not to show her surprise. "Really?"

Lindsay's mouth quirked."Really."

"Why are you all alone, Lindsay?" Ginny's eyes filled with unexpected tears and her throat felt tight. "I can't bear the thought of you not having anyone."She ached for Lindsay in a way she never had for another. And while the rail-rider never seemed outright unhappy with her life, there were times when Ginny could feel the neediness in Lindsay's heart tearing at her own soul. No one should be alone.

A hurt expression chased its way across Lindsay's face."Am I all alone?"

Ginny quickly realized her error."Not at all. I didn't mean it that way. You have me," she assured before Lindsay could say anything else. There was a resoluteness to her voice that wormed its way into Lindsay's heart, quelling her fears."But is there truly no one else?"She knew how she hurt over the loss of her own kin. Did Lindsay feel the same way?

"No one." Lindsay swallowed thickly, a little surprised that the thought held only an echo of real pain. But that saying the words out loud, somehow made it seem much worse. More real.

"Why? You told me you've been on your own since you were twelve years old. That's just not right, Lindsay!"

"Shhh..." Lindsay brushed away Ginny's tears. Tears that were for her. Will wonders never cease? "Let me tell you."She tugged affectionately on a strand of Ginny's hair.

Ginny bit her tongue and waited, grabbing hold of her emotions.

"I'm afraid you'll be a little disappointed. I don't have a very interesting story."

"Somehow I doubt that." I find just about everything about you interesting.

Without asking, Lindsay leaned forward and brushed her lips against Ginny's, hearing Ginny's surprised gasp then a whimper as the contact continued and she gently deepened the kiss, swirling her warm tongue around her friend's. She moaned.

The kiss tapered off naturally and Lindsay pressed her forehead to Ginny's. Both the young women's breathing was slightly ragged."I've been wanting to do that since I woke up," she whispered."Was that all right?"

"God, yes," Ginny breathed, a little unsettled but mostly excited by her body's response.

"Tsh." Brown eyes twinkled. "Blasphemy again?"

"I've been corrupted." Ginny lifted her chin and nibbled Lindsay's lower lip. I could do this forever, her mind whispered."But I won't be put off." Regretfully, she gave Lindsay a final peck and then settled back onto her pillow, promising herself that there would be time for more kisses later.

Lindsay chuckled."I already knew that about you, Ginny. Okay, my life story such as it is. Everything that I know. Are you sure you want the entire boring story?"

Ginny pinched Lindsay, earning a playful squawk."Quite sure."

"I was born in Plymouth, Pennsylvania. And-"

"Really? Not New York?" Ginny interrupted.

Lindsay shot her a look.

She cringed sheepishly."Sorry, go on."

"My mother is or maybe was..." Lindsay paused for a moment."I'm not really sure which. Anyway, she was from an affluent family in Montreal. Her name is Suzette Mourier."

Ginny's eyebrows jumped."You're French?"

Lindsay smiled indulgently. Trying to keep Ginny quiet was as useless as fighting the tide. "Half French," she corrected."My father's name was Jack Killian-he came over from Ireland during the War Between the States."

Lindsay shifted in the bed, getting more comfortable."Da was a laborer for a lumber yard in Plymouth, and he met my mother when her parents brought her with them on a business trip to Pennsylvania. She was a teenager, pretty from all accounts. He was nearly forty and the roguish sort, if you know what I mean."

"Mmm... Where did they meet?"

"I don't know. Da never said." Lindsay pulled the sheet up a little higher and Ginny scooted closer until they were touching all along their bodies, jointly warding off the morning chill. "She was only in the States for a week and, because of the difference in their ages and social classes, they met secretly every day when Da finished work. Da asked her to stay in Plymouth when it came time for her to go, but she refused."

Can someone fall in love that quickly? You know the answer to that, Ginny's heart chided. She wondered what Lindsay thought about that and asked, "Were they in love?"

Lindsay snorted. "Does it matter? She left him."

That, Ginny admitted to herself, was something she didn't have an answer for.

"My mother returned to Plymouth six months later, alone after being thrown out of the house by her parents, and very pregnant. They married. I was born."

"Nothing interesting happened in between all that?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

Ginny sighed and tried to lighten the mood by mumbling, "Some storyteller you are."

A smile eased over Lindsay's face. "Toldja." Then she became more somber."My mother was always unhappy. Always. And even in the best of times, Da never did more than eke out a living. Mother went back to Canada when I was four, and I've never seen or heard from her since."

"Oh, Lindsay."Ginny closed her eyes, furious with a woman she'd never met, her heart crying out for her friend who'd missed so much."That's awful."

"Not really."Lindsay tried to shrug but it wasn't possible with Ginny plastered to her side."I don't really remember her, other than the fact that she had brown eyes."

Beautiful ones, I'll bet. "Like you."

Lindsay nodded."Like me. Da's were the color of cornflowers," with an effort, she turned onto her side and tweaked Ginny's nose, "like yours."

Ginny smiled weakly.

"Da was never the same after she leftover the next few years he lost his job at the lumber yard then slowly he started staying out all night. He never drank or beat me or anything like that. He just wasn't there. No one bothered to make me go to school or do much of anything. And by the time I was ten or so he'd be gone for days at a time."Her brow creased and she wondered for the millionth time where he'd disappeared to. Deep in her heart she wondered if it wasn't Canada to visit her mother. Maybe the reason her mother had left had been her and never her father.

"Days?" Ginny could scarcely believe it."You were just a little girl. How did you survive?"How could any man do that? Even Arthur, who had been a dreamer and a drinker-a dangerous mix-had loved his children and stepchildren. Ginny always knew that. Always.

Lindsay's voice was flat, as though it was someone else's life that she was talking about."We lived on the outskirts in a shanty town mostly full of drunkards, kids, and veterans who couldn't work because of broken bodies or minds. I learned from a boy who lived a few shacks down that I could jump on one of the passing trains and hitch a ride into the city."

She wistfully recalled the feeling of freedom she felt the first time she'd tried it. How the wind ruffled her long dark hair and the endless miles of tracks stretched invitingly before her-taking her away from where she was-promising her an unknown future that had to be better than her present. "So I did it. In the city, I worked selling fly paper and matches to buy food. Men liked buying from little girls and I sold more than the boys my age who were just as hungry."

Tears filled Ginny's eyes again. "Lindsay..."

"It's all right," Lindsay whispered tenderly."There's not much more to tell. In '85 the Typhoid epidemic hit Plymouth."She closed her eyes."I had been living on the streets in the city for nearly a week, not bothering to go home, when I finally decided to make my way back in the middle of the night. The shantytown was deathly quiet. And I knew something was wrong." And the smell. God. It turned her stomach just remembering."I found Da on the davenport... he was hunched over and pale as a ghost. He was-" her voice cracked and she stopped.

Ginny squeezed Lindsay's good hand, her own eyes leaking. "I'm so sorry."

No. I can't think about it. I won't get through the tellin'."He was dead. Musta come home while I was gone. Most of the neighbors were sick or dead themselves, so I gathered up a few things and hopped onto the next train east. I never went back."

Ginny wiped her wet cheeks."You never tried to contact your mother?"

"Nah," Lindsay scoffed, though the idea wasn't a foreign one."I didn't have an address, and even if I did, she had plenty of years to contact me... to get to know me. She chose not to. Besides, she was no goddamned mother to me. And Da wasn't much better. I raised myself."And a fine job you did, too, thief.

A quiet anger filled Ginny."You shouldn't have had to do that, Lindsay. No child should."

"It's in the past, Ginny. Fretting now can't change a damn thing." Lindsay suddenly sat up, got out of bed, and marched across the room. With her back to her friend, she stepped into her trousers, which she found piled in the doorway. The laundress must have left them there last night. She cursed the tears she could feel welling in her eyes.

Ginny followed Lindsay, crossing the room and watching as the rail-rider's back stiffened in reaction. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Lindsay from behind, hugging her as tightly as she dared. She felt the involuntary flinch run through the lean form in her arms, and knew there was more to talk about. But not now. She pressed her face against Lindsay's shoulder and whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. You aren't alone anymore, Lindsay."

Lindsay's shoulders began to helplessly shake as silent sobs racked her, years of pent up grief bubbling to the surface. Her knees felt weak and she felt Ginny supporting most of her weight in response.

"Let it out."

Her sobs intensified.

Ginny sniffed and held on for dear life."I won't let go."

At nine a.m. sharp Ginny and Lindsay stood on the sidewalk outside a three-story brick building. A bronze plaque near the front door read: The Foundling Placement Society Founded by Jeremiah & Isabelle Ward 1888.

Ginny twitched her skirt. She turned to Lindsay."What if they tell us the kids aren't here?"

Lindsay kicked a bit of snow from her shoe."We'll find out for ourselves, Ginny. There are ways. If I have to, I'll sneak into the orphanage at night and check every God damn bed."

Ginny smiled."I hope that won't be necessary."

Lindsay's look, however, was grim."So do I."

Fifty minutes later and both young women were still waiting outside Mr. Ward's office. Then, just when Lindsay had lost all patience and was about to push her way inside, the office door opened and a tall, thin man emerged, his shiny black shoes clicking on the wooden floors. He was rail thin and in his middle forties, with black curly hair shaved close to his head on the sides and left longer on top, and thick, mutton chop sideburns. His dark green eyes were close set and nearly obscured by a tuft of bushy eyebrows. The man's gaze flicked briefly to Ginny and Lindsay, dismissing them, before traveling to his secretary.

Lindsay suddenly wished she were here to pick his pockets clean. Smug bastard.

"Wendell?" Mr. Ward questioned."Who are these.... Who are they?" His tone was firm, Wendell knew better than to waste his time with beggars. His gaze slid sideways. Adult beggars at that.

Wendell was a large, round black man with tiny hands so smooth and feminine that Ginny found herself a little jealous. Unconsciously, she pushed her own scarred hands into her coat pockets.

Wendell jumped to his feet, taking care to set down his ink pen carefully despite his jittery hands."This is Miss Chisholm and...and... her.... uhh...."He threw a panicked look Ginny's way.

Ginny mouthed 'friend' and Wendell repeated the word to Mr. Ward."They're your nine a.m. appointment, sir. A referral from Mr. Spence; I cleared it with you yesterday."

"Spence," Mr. Ward spat the name as though it was a curse, "should know better than to bother me on a Sunday." But he had accepted the appointment, assuming it had something to do with the investigation of his foundation. And now the time he'd spent in his office, making his opponent wait, had been nothing more than a waste. With jerky motions, he pulled his pocket watch from his vest and frowned at the time. He finally looked up at Ginny and Lindsay. "Won't you come into my office? You have a few moments before my next appointment."

Lindsay rolled her eyes, but refrained from comment as they were led into a plush office. Inside, a tiny woman in an expensive green dress with brightly colored feathers woven through its lapel sat behind a large mahogany desk, which was strategically placed in the very center of the room. She looked to be nearly the same age as Mr. Ward with lines around her eyes marking her age. An enormous pile of golden curls sat atop her head, bouncing a little as she drew in a deep breath to speak."Jeremiah-?" Her gaze lifted from the ledger book in front of her. When she saw who was accompanying her husband, she froze.

"My dear. This is Miss Chisholm and her guest."

Isabelle Ward lifted a pale eyebrow at Ginny and Lindsay. With a slight turn of her head, her second rapidly lifting eyebrow was directed at Mr. Ward.

"They were sent here by Christian Spencer," he clarified, clearly annoyed that he'd agreed to the meeting in the first place.

Isabelle sighed."I see."She stepped out from behind the desk, deciding to dispense with this meeting as quickly as possible."I'm Isabelle Ward." She smiled a sugary smile."How can we help you?"

Ginny cleared her throat, suddenly nervous in the presence of these two imposing figures.

Lindsay was less impressed.

"I'm looking for my brothers and my sister."

"Orphans?"

Ginny's mouth worked but no sound emerged for several seconds."No," she announced crisply, surprising everyone in the room. Suddenly she was very tired that she was having to go through all this to reclaim her family. She'd done nothing wrong. "An orphan is someone who has no one to raise them. That's not the case with my siblings."

"Hmm..." Isabelle tapped her chin."I see. Pity we can't help you. Your brothers and sister aren't here."She pushed herself off the desk."Now if you'll excuse us. We have work-"

"Do you know Lt. Robert O'Mally of the 111th Manhattan Police Precinct?" Lindsay asked loudly.

Three heads snapped towards her and Ginny's eyes widened. What are you doing? There is no 111th Police Precinct in Manhattan!

Jeremiah Ward took a step closer to Lindsay, studying her with a critical eye. "I'm afraid we don't, M..." He waited for Lindsay to supply her name.

She didn't.

Lindsay crossed her arms over her chest."We spoke with him yesterday. It seems he was at the scene of the fire at 84 Orchard Street several weeks ago. And he personally saw an employee of yours load the Robson children into a wagon. Are you saying you did not take them into custody for your care?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Isabelle snapped. Who was this person to question her?