Page 82 of The Temptation of Roan Island

“Excuse me. Sir?”

The man turns. “Afternoon.”

“I’m Shemaiah Roan, and this is my wife Pippa.” Shemaiah draws me to his side and wraps an arm around me.

The man hastily takes off his hat. “Roan? As in the philanthropic Roans?”

Shemaiah’s jaw ticks. “Yes.”

“Caspar Gebhardt,” the man says, holding out a hand, which Shemaiah takes. “We weren’t told there would be guests on board with us.”

“I think we’re the only ones. I begged the Captain to allow us to return to New Essik with him, rather than wait.” Shemaiah stalls a moment, glancing at me, but I can’t find words to ask Mr. Gebhardt what I want to know, afraid of his answer. “We do have a self-interested reason,” Shemaiah continues. “One we think you might be able to help with.”

Mr. Gebhardt dips his head slightly. “How can I be of service?”

“We’re looking for a boy,” Shemaiah says.

“My son.” I finally grab hold of words that make sense. “Tobias Willoughby. Is he here?”

Though it’s clear he’s confused, Mr. Gebhardt opens his booklet. “Willoughby, you say?” He scans the contents.

“Tobias Willoughby.” My heart falters, the beast inside it racing.

“I don’t see him, but…” Mr. Gebhardt hums a note, his eyes scanning down and down before he turns one page, then another, gently shaking his head. “We don’t have a Willoughby. Would he be under a different name?”

“No,” I answer, my stomach lurching. “It would be Willoughby.” I spell it out for him.

Mr. Gebhardt looks up, his book snapping shut. “I’m sorry, but Tobias Willoughby was never in New Caldon’s Children’s Home.”

“That can’t be right.” I make a grab for the book to check myself, but he pulls it away.

“Trust me, Madame. My records are meticulous.”

“But the New Essik home said he was sent here.” I spin in a circle, taking in the crowd of children now filling the room. “You had children come from New Essik, didn’t you?”

“Five children in the past six months. None of them boys.” Mr. Gebhardt holds the book to his chest.

“Is there somewhere else he might have been sent?” Shemaiah’s voice is too calm, a complete contrast to the pounding in my head.

The man answers, but I can’t understand. My ears are ringing. “He has to be here. He’s nowhere else.” Fat tears spill down my cheeks. “Please. He has to be here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mrs. Roan,” Mr. Gebhardt says. “Your son was never here.” His gaze tracks a tear down my face. “I do hope you find him.”

“Where is he?” I sob, turning my head into Shemaiah’s shoulder.

He kisses my temple. “We’ll find him.”

“Maiah.” I take comfort in his strength, but it’s not enough to quell the ache in my chest.

He kisses the top of my head. “I’m here, little flower. I’ve got you.”

I lean back, looking up through the haze of tear-filled eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

Shemaiah frames my face with his hands. “I told you, you’re a Roan now—my wife—and I take care of what’s mine. We’ll do this together. Every resource I have is yours. We’ll find him.”

“But how?” Tears slip down my cheeks. “We’ve already checked everywhere, and he’s nowhere to be found.”

“Then we’ll tear the world apart until we find him.” There’s a cold determination in his words. He’ll do it. I can see it in his eyes. He’ll rip the world apart to find my boy, and he’ll do it all for me. My kind, sweet-hearted Shemaiah, who loves quiet days in the library, would go on a rampage to find my boy if I asked him to.