What McGill called a "safehouse" was a three-story, red brick building; it was indeed on a tree-lined street. Entering the house, the group met two just-arrived representatives of the Philadelphia Department of Human Services. "Social workers," McGill explained. "Here to make sure the FBI doesn't mistreat you!"
Aileen Roche was a plump, pretty young woman wearing a blue blouse, a longish brown skirt, and startlingly large hoop earrings. Will Samuels was a tall, powerfully built man with kinky, graying hair, and skin much darker than that of Kevin's boss. Remembering the picture-books of his childhood, Lucius decided Samuels was a member of the race called "black." After they'd exchanged a few words, he needed no book to tell him the man was extremely likable.
"Dinner has to be our top priority now," McGill said firmly. "But"--this was addressed to Lucius and Ivy--"would you two be more comfortable if you washed up and changed into fresh clothes? We can find some in the closets here. What they'll look like doesn't matter, when you'll just be having dinner with friends--oh, but we won't ask you to wear red!" She bit her lip. "In fact, I'll change out of this red blouse. I wouldn't have worn it if I knew you had a religious objection to the color."
Lucius and Ivy both burst out, "Don't change it!" Then Lucius relaxed and let Ivy do the talking. She explained that they didn't want to influence anyone else's choice of clothing; they wouldn't be offended by red, though she herself wasn't ready to wear it. "And we'd love a chance to clean up and get out of these clothes. I'd gladly wear a sack to dinner!"
A grinning Lucius said he agreed, on all points but one: he would be willing to wear red, though he wouldn't go out of his way to seek it.
In the upshot, they were so exhausted--and so hungry--that the pre-dinner "cleaning up" consisted of little more than washing their hands and faces. With backs chastely turned to each other, Lucius changed into an ill-fitting black sweater and pants, Ivy into a knee-length flowered smock. She'd chosen it upon learning its flowers included violets.
Lucius was delighted with the meatless dinner, at which the main course was pasta. It was served by a pleasant man and woman McGill introduced as members of the five-person staff of the safehouse. McGill and the two social workers ate with the young couple; they never made them feel awkward, or expressed any unhappiness at being deprived of meat. Sooner or later, Lucius realized, I'll have to watch people eat it. But I'm glad I don't have to make that adjustment tonight.
After the meal, Aileen Roche asked to speak to Ivy alone, in another room. Ivy looked frightened, and Lucius protested, "There's no need for that! We don't want to be separated."
"Please," Roche urged, "it won't take long! I won't hurt you, Ms. Walker, won't even touch you if you don't want me to. You know I'm a woman. I'm just a few years older than you are. And I'll be in serious trouble with my bosses if we don't have this talk."
Ivy gave in. "All right," she said nervously. She used her cane as an aid as she made her way into the next room, not letting this new acquaintance touch her.
Lucius sat tensely on the edge of his chair. He couldn't imagine what the woman wanted; his insides were in knots. But when he glanced at McGill, he thought she was trying to suppress a smile.
Suddenly, peals of girlish laughter came from the next room. There were several more bursts of giggles. Then the young women returned, pink-faced and beaming; Roche's arm was around Ivy's shoulders.
Ivy made her way back to the chair next to Lucius's, and slipped her hand into his. "What Miz Roche wanted," she explained, "was to ask me in private whether I was with you, engaged to you, against my will. She thought either you or my parents might have forced me into it. If so, the City of Philadelphia was prepared to rescue me. But she was quite relieved when I told her I proposed to you!"
Will Samuels managed to keep his laugh from becoming a guffaw; McGill's wound up as a snort.
Ivy continued imperturbably, "I assured her that you were also free to reject any proposal you didn't want--that you did in fact reject my sister's!"
The city dwellers erupted in laughter again, but it was the warm laughter of friends. Lucius, seeing affectionate smiles on all sides, was too happy to be embarrassed.
Wiping damp eyes, McGill said, "I knew what Ms. Roche was going to ask. I'd seen enough to be sure the two of you are in love. But I couldn't just tell her that--she had to find out for herself."
Then she continued more seriously, "There's another matter I have to bring up. Normally, I wouldn't discuss an FBI investigation in front of City social workers. But this is a special case. They're going to stick around, and"--with a nod to Roche and Samuels--"I know they're both good people. So I guess I can bend the rules.
"By tomorrow, Mr. Hunt, we'll know something about that skull you found. And we'll have authorization to go into the Walker Preserve. I'd like to introduce you to modern life slowly, but...would you be willing to get a good night's sleep tonight and go to the Preserve with us tomorrow, to help our people find the skeletons?"
He didn't need to think about it. "Of course."
"I want to go too," said Ivy. "I realize there's nothing I can do to help, but I won't cause any problems. And I want to stay with Lucius."
McGill nodded. "That's fine." She saw the social workers about to speak up, and told them, "You're welcome to come along. I don't want any turf wars here.
"Now," she told the young couple, "we'd better get you settled in for the night. There will always be staff in the house. But tonight, at least, the three of us will stay over as well, to help you feel secure.
"I'm not sure how, ah, intimate a relationship engaged couples have in your culture. Would you like a shared room, or separate ones?"
Unfortunately, Lucius said "Separate" as Ivy was saying "Shared."
Aileen Roche giggled.
Ivy pleaded, "Please, Lucius, share a room with me! I've never slept alone in a bedroom in my life. I've always been with one or more of my sisters."
McGill said tactfully, "I could room with you tonight. Or Ms. Roche, or both of us--"
"No! I want Lucius!"
"It's all right," said Lucius. He felt his face burning. "Of course I'll sleep with you, Ivy." Sleep with you. No more than that!
McGill took a deep breath and said, "I hate to start this up again, but...two beds or one?"
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A half hour later she was about to leave them alone in the room, with its adjoining bath and its one huge bed. (Once again, Ivy had gotten her way.) Lucius tried not to look at the bed, not to think about it. And he was too tired--or too distracted by thoughts of sex--to concern himself just then with the room's strangest features, odd-looking pieces of furniture called a "computer" and a "TV." Hard enough to cope with lights that come on with the flick of a switch, and water that's apt to run scalding hot.
McGill hesitated in the doorway. "I know you said you don't want to try that TV tonight, Mr. Hunt. But just in case you change your mind...I don't know what you might hear, so there's something I should tell you."
He frowned. "Yes?"
"When visitors come to a city, they usually stay in places called hotels. Not in houses like this. Remember my saying it's a 'safehouse,' where the FBI usually boards trial witnesses?"
"Yes, I remember."
"The reason for that is that people sometimes want to kill those witnesses. I want to make sure you understand that we don't imagine anyone will want to kill you! We're just keeping you here to protect your privacy."
Lucius felt a chill at the talk of killing. City of Brotherly Love? He was standing with his arm around Ivy, and she went rigid.
He was tempted to ask, "Why is there a need to protect our privacy?" But he had a hunch the answer would be a long one...and he wouldn't like it. So what he actually said was, "All right. We can discuss it in the morning."
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They'd decided to take baths rather than risk experimenting with the shower. Lucius refused to look at Ivy unclothed. He prepared the bath for her, made sure the water was not too hot or its level too high, guided her into the bathroom--still in a robe--and helped her familiarize herself with the tub. But then he walked out and left her alone.
Twenty minutes later, as he stood near the bed with his back to the bathroom door, he heard her voice from the doorway. "Lucius Hunt!"
He knew, without looking, that she was nude. As he was.
"Lucius Hunt! You know, do you not, that only you are being prudish?"
"Please, Ivy," he said quietly, "don't do this to me. I love you too much. I'm not a prude. But I will not do something that there's even a slight chance you may regret later."
She gave a soft gasp.
After a long pause, she spoke again--her voice muffled by bedclothes. "I'm sorry, Lucius. It's all right. I'm in bed now, with a nightgown on."
He stumbled to the bathroom and took a long, hot soak.
When he finally crawled into bed beside her, she was asleep.
At least he thought she was.