SECRET OF THE WOLF By Susan Krinard

Once back home, Johanna bathed her father, prepared a light dinner for the group, and carried trays to Harper and Papa. Harper continued to exhibit more alertness than he had in the months before, but he was still very quiet. She resolved to set aside several uninterrupted hours tomorrow to spend with him.

After dinner the patients assembled in the parlor. Johanna opened the windows to let in the cooler evening air and made sure everyone was settled. She encouraged the evening gatherings, as she did the walks, so that none of the residents of the Haven lost touch with their own humanity.

Tonight Quentin would join them. Irene was dressed in her gaudiest gown and waiting impatiently for his appearance. Lewis hunched in his corner, whispering to himself. Oscar kept busy with his puzzle. May, much to Johanna’s satisfaction, came all the way into the kitchen and hunkered down beside the door, watching for Quentin as attentively as Irene did.

He entered the room, every inch the genuine aristocrat in his brushed and mended suit, supplemented by a waistcoat borrowed from Papa. All eyes were drawn to him, even Johanna’s. She couldn’t help herself.

Irene sprang to her feet, collected her dignity, and sauntered over to take possession of his arm. “I’m so glad you could come to my little farewell party,” she said. “I do apologize for the… mixed nature of the guest list.”

“You look charming,” he said with a slight bow. “As does everyone.” He stared at Johanna, and behind his smile was an intensity reminiscent of his odd behavior during the walk.

“Come sit by me,” Irene said, tugging him toward the old horsehair sofa. “We have so much to talk about.”

Quentin allowed himself to be persuaded, but he continued to gaze at Johanna until he could no longer comfortably do so.

Johanna got up, too restless to continue with her medical journal. Oscar gave her a toothy welcome when she sat on the floor beside him.

“You wanna play, too?” he said, sliding the half-finished puzzle toward her.

“I’m glad you like the puzzle so much,” she said. She fit a piece into its slot. He followed with another, pushing his tongue out as he struggled to make the edges match, and clapped his big hands when it slid into place.

Johanna beckoned May to join them, but she only sank down closer to the floor. Nonetheless, the very fact that she was in view was an excellent sign.

Irene alone was incorrigible. As tolerant as Quentin was with her, she couldn’t be allowed to monopolize him and ignore the others.

“Irene,” Johanna said, “I believe we need a little music. Would you sing for us, please?”

An opportunity to perform was something Irene could not pass up, but she cast Johanna a scornful glance. “Who’ll play the piano? You are certainly no hand at it, Johanna—if you can bring yourself to get up off the floor.”

“Don’t be mean to Doc Jo,” Oscar scolded. “It’s not nice.”

Irene laughed. “What would you know of ‘nice,’ you—”

Quentin clasped her hand. “Allow me to accompany you, Miss DuBois. My poor abilities may not do justice to your vocal talents, but I hope not to shame you.”

She simpered. “You could not do anything badly, my lord.”

He shared a conspiratorial look with Johanna. “You do me too much honor, Miss DuBois.” He stood up and walked her to the old piano. It bore a fine coat of dust from long disuse. He had just pulled out the bench when Lewis sprang up, produced a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, and began to dust the piano with furious diligence. Finished with his work, he sidled past May into the kitchen to wash his hands.

“Thank you, Mr. Andersen,” Quentin called after him. He sat down and ran his fingers gently over the keys. “Only a trifle out of tune,” he remarked. “It’s a fine old instrument.” He leafed through the brown-edged sheet music moldering in a basket beside the piano.

Irene plucked a sheet from his hand. ” ‘Lilly Dale,'” she said. “It’s frightfully old, but I shall do what I can.” She returned the music to Quentin and assumed a theatrical air, more for his benefit than that of her audience.

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