The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  Until now. She could right this grievous wrong.

  It would be easy for her to pass the twins off as her own. And after everything she’d been through, no one could fault her for taking them. Their mother was dead, their sister had abandoned them, and the odds of their father returning from the war were poor. The newspaper listings of those killed in action, along with the new flu cases and deaths, had grown every day. Even if the twins had family back in Germany, it would be impossible to locate a relative in that war-torn country. She could take good care of the boys and, more importantly, bring them up properly, free from the sway of their barbaric, backward heritage.

  When the twins finished nursing, she laid them on the bed and slid slowly off the mattress, careful not to wake them. If she was going to do this, she needed to hurry. She yanked the rest of the clean diapers and baby clothes off the clothesline, piled them on the table, then held her breath and went in the bedroom. Starting with the dresser and doing her best to pay no heed to Mrs. Lange, she searched for more baby clothes, but found none. Two small coats hung in the closet. She took them, and the rattles and bottles from the cubby, then hurried out of the room.

  Back in the kitchen, she searched the cupboard and shelves for more bottles and food, but found nothing. Above the washbasin, a drawing of a blond girl holding hands with two little boys in a field of flowers hung on the wall. A yellow sun peeked out from behind puffy clouds and, in the bottom left-hand corner, careful cursive words that read:

  To Ollie and Max. Love, your big sister, Pia

  A stab of guilt twisted in Bernice’s chest. Maybe Pia really was coming back. Maybe she’d left to get food and hadn’t abandoned her brothers. Maybe, now that they were fed and dry, they’d be all right until she returned. Bernice chewed her lip, her hands in fists at her sides. Maybe she should leave the boys here. Maybe it wasn’t her place to take them from their big sister. And what if their father returned from the war? She picked up her coat and started toward the door, then stopped. No, if Pia came back and found them gone, it would serve her right. They were just babies and never should have been left alone, no matter what. And they certainly shouldn’t have been locked in that cold, dark cubby. It was horrible and cruel and neglectful. Bernice pressed her fingers over her temples, trying to decide what to do. Her head was pounding. Was she trying to justify taking them? No. That wasn’t it. They never should have been abandoned. They needed her. And she needed them.

  She turned around, put down her coat, and got back to work gathering the twins’ things. Putting the soiled clothes and blankets in a sack and rinsing out the bottles from the cubby, her disgust and anger grew. Pia should have asked a neighbor for help or taken the boys to the Red Cross—anything but what she’d done. The babies deserved better.

  Suddenly someone knocked on the front door. Bernice jumped and almost dropped a bottle.

  “Hello?” a woman’s muffled voice said. “Is anyone home?” She knocked again.

  Bernice went rigid, her eyes fixed on the unlocked door. She glanced at the twins, praying they wouldn’t wake up. The woman knocked again, louder this time. Bernice held her breath.

  “I’m with the Visiting Nurse Society of Philadelphia,” the woman said. “We’re going door to door to see if anyone needs help. Are you in there?”

  Then the handle turned and the door edged open. Bernice swore under her breath, put down the bottle, grabbed an apron hanging next to the washbasin, slipped it over her head, and rushed to the door, tying the apron strings behind her back. Only half pretending to be out of breath, she pulled the door open.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was scrubbing the bedroom floor and didn’t hear you knock.”

  The nurse gazed at Bernice, her chestnut eyes filled with concern above a gauze mask. Wearing a long, military-style jacket, hat, and high button-up boots, she carried what looked like a doctor’s bag in one gloved hand. The edge of a dark skirt and white apron hung below her jacket hem.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you,” the nurse said. “But how are you faring? Is anyone in your home sick?”

  Bernice shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s good to hear,” the nurse said. “But if you want to stay well, you should always wear a mask when you answer the door.”

  Bernice nodded and pulled up the bottom of the apron she was wearing, holding it over her nose and mouth.

  “And you really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” the nurse said.

  “Oh. Yes, I know. I just came up from getting water and forgot.”

  The nurse peered over Bernice’s shoulder, trying to see inside. “Do you have this apartment all to yourself?”

  Unable to tell if the nurse could see the twins on the bed, Bernice said, “It’s just me and my boys.”

  The nurse furrowed her brow and put a gloved hand over her mask. “Has someone passed in there?”

  Bernice clenched her jaw, cursing silently. If she said no, the nurse might insist on coming inside to check. She looked down at the floor, trying to buy time, then sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Sadly, yes,” she said, hoping she sounded sincere. “My beloved sister. We lost her a while ago, but I didn’t know what to do with... with her. I’ve seen the men on the wagons gathering bodies, but I couldn’t carry her outside by myself. And I couldn’t leave the babies.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the nurse said. “I’ll send someone to pick up your sister as soon as I can.”

  Bernice started to say no, then realized it didn’t matter. She’d be gone by the time someone came to get Mrs. Lange. “Thank you. I appreciate that more than you know.”

  “I’m here to help however I can,” the nurse said. “How old are your sons?”

  “Four months.”

  “Twins?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And your husband? Is he in the military?”

  Bernice nodded.

  “Well, be sure to keep your boys at home until the worst of this is over,” the nurse said. “And if you start feeling sick, let someone know. People are dying faster than we thought possible and I’ve found a number of children left to fend for themselves. You don’t want that to happen to your boys. Just this morning I found a three-year-old who’d been alone in his apartment for several days. His parents passed and no one knew. He doesn’t have the flu, but he was half-starved. Sadly, I’m not sure he’s going to survive.”

  Bernice gasped, shocked by the knowledge that more babies were being left alone. It made her feel ill. “Oh my word,” she said. “What are you doing with the children you find?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she berated herself for continuing the conversation. She needed the nurse to leave.

  “We do what we can. First, we ask the neighbors if the family had any nearby relatives or close friends, someone who might be willing to take in the children. If no one can be found to take care of them, we take them to an orphanage. Unfortunately, the city’s orphanages are getting overcrowded due to the epidemic.”

  Bernice shivered, remembering the stories her brother used to tell her about evil nuns and cold gruel in orphanages. “Oh dear,” she said. “The poor things. Well, thank you again for stopping by.”

  “You’re welcome,” the nurse said. “Take care of yourself and those boys now. And stay inside until this is over, all right?”

  Bernice nodded and the nurse turned to leave, giving her a friendly wave. Bernice closed the door and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. She tried to remember everything she’d said and done, if somehow she’d given herself away or acted nervous. She didn’t think she had. The nurse had no reason to suspect her, anyway. Still, she had to admit she was surprised by how easily she’d lied about being the twins’ mother. But then again, she was their mother now, and mothers would do anything to protect their children, even lie, cheat, or steal. When her racing heart slowed, she went to the window and looked out, waiting for the nurse to leave the building. After what seemed like forever, the nurse skittered down the steps, h
urried along the alley, and disappeared into the next row house. Bernice watched for another minute to make sure the nurse wasn’t coming out again and Pia wasn’t on her way back, then quickly gathered the twins’ belongings and put them in the center of a blanket on the floor. When she was certain she had everything, she tied the corners of the blanket together to make a sack, then stood over the boys on the bed.

  “Now, which one of you is Ollie and which one is Max?” she said in a quiet voice. Then she waited for a sign, for one of the twins to move or make a noise. Whoever stirred first, she decided, was Ollie. But they kept on sleeping, the only movement the rise and fall of their tiny chests. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m giving you new names, anyway.”

  She thought about looking in on Mrs. Lange one last time, to tell her she’d take good care of the babies and maybe say a prayer for her. Knowing how devastated she would have been if someone had taken Wallis, it felt like the right thing to do. Then she remembered Mrs. Lange was German—who knew what strange religion she followed, if any. Not to mention Mr. Lange had stolen Bernice’s father’s job. He might as well have killed him with his bare hands. And the twins would have died if Bernice hadn’t found them. Now they would have a loving home and caring mother who would bring them up right and teach them the American way. She didn’t owe Mrs. Lange an apology or a promise or a prayer. If anything, Mrs. Lange should be grateful she was willing to take in her sons. A lesser person would have left them to starve.

  * * *

  With a baby boy on each hip and the makeshift sack of diapers and clothes and bottles tied around her shoulders, Bernice huffed up the last flight of stairs to her apartment, sweat covering her face and running down her back. More than anything she wanted to stop and take off her coat, but she needed to get inside her apartment before someone saw her. With every step the boys felt heavier, the loaded sack ready to topple her backward down the steps. When she reached the top, she stood for a second to rest, then trudged down the hall to her door, her muscles throbbing. The twins, silent and teary-eyed, looked around in bewilderment, too weary and frightened to protest or cry.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered to them. “You’re going to be just fine. Better than fine, now that you’re with me.”

  Then she remembered her key was in her coat pocket. In order to retrieve it, she’d need to put down one of the twins. Silently scolding herself for not carrying the key in her hand, she bent over and gently placed one of the boys on the floor, on his back. He looked up at her and blinked, then started to cry.

  “I know, I know,” she whispered. “I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”

  When she found the key, she put it in the lock, opened the door, and put the other boy inside on the rug. Like his brother, he immediately began to fuss.

  “Shhh,” she said. “We’re almost there.” She let the sack slide off her shoulders onto the floor, then stepped back into the hall to retrieve the first boy. When she picked him up, he stopped crying. She started to go back inside, then froze. Someone was at the top of the stairs.

  It was the nurse who had stopped by the Langes’ apartment.

  “What’s going on here?” the nurse said, and headed toward her.

  Bernice hurried the rest of the way back inside and started to close the door with her free hand, but the nurse put her foot against it.

  “What are you doing over here?” the nurse said, holding the door open with her arm and leg. “I thought we agreed it was too dangerous to take your sons out.”

  Bernice released the door. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, pretending to be surprised and praying the nurse couldn’t see the panic in her eyes. “You scared the daylights out of me. I’m checking on a friend. I know it’s not safe, but I made a promise.”

  Hearing his brother crying inside the apartment, the twin in her arms started to whimper.

  The nurse set down her bag and offered to take him. “Here,” she said. “Let me help you.”

  Bernice turned to one side, pulling him out of her reach. “No,” she said, louder than she intended. “I can manage.”

  The nurse furrowed her brow. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Your face is quite flushed.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Bernice said. “I’m just overheated from carrying the boys up the stairs. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to...”

  The nurse looked past her with narrowed eyes. “Is there a dead body in there?”

  Bernice took a step back and started to close the door again, but the heel of her boot caught on the makeshift sack of baby clothes and, thinking she’d stepped on the other boy, she overcorrected, lost her balance, and started to fall. The nurse leapt forward to catch the baby before she dropped him. But Bernice grabbed the door with her free hand, catching herself, and pulled him out of her reach again. She tried to block her from entering but it was too late. The nurse was inside.

  Before Bernice could react, the nurse picked up the twin on the rug and gently bounced him up and down, patting his back, her eyes scanning the room. When she saw Wallis’s crib in the corner, she started toward it. “Whose child is this?” she said.

  Bernice swallowed the sour taste of fear in the back of her throat. “It’s my friend’s baby. I tried to convince her to take him to the funeral home, but she refused. He was her only child and she’s extremely distraught. Understandably, of course. That’s why I promised to stop by again, to make sure she was all right.”

  The nurse looked in the crib, then turned back to Bernice. “Oh, the poor dear,” she said. “Perhaps I can help. Where is she?”

  Bernice glanced at the closed bedroom door. “She must be sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”

  “I thought you came over here to check on her? How can you find out if she’s all right if you don’t go in there?”

  “I will,” Bernice said. “It’s just—”

  “Why don’t you take your boys back home and let me take care of your friend,” the nurse said. She moved the twin, who had fallen asleep on her shoulder, to the cradle of her arm, and gazed down at him. Then she looked up at Bernice, her eyes smiling. “That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

  Bernice shook her head. “Thank you, but I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

  “All right,” the nurse said. “Then I’ll watch the babies while you check on her.” She unbuttoned her jacket, shrugged it off one shoulder, switched the sleeping twin to her other arm, let the jacket fall to the floor, then lay him on top of it. When she straightened, she reached for the other twin.

  Bernice’s heart beat so hard and loud she swore the nurse could hear it. What could she say to make the nosy nurse leave? Nothing came to her. If she tried to kick her out, she’d wonder why. Even if she could force her out, she might come back with the police. Then who knew what would happen. But what if she went into the bedroom and saw the empty bed? What if she insisted on helping her back to the Langes’ apartment after she checked on her “friend”? Playing along was Bernice’s only choice. She handed the other baby to the nurse, took off her coat, and hung it over a chair. A frantic trembling came from somewhere deep inside her body, as if she’d eaten spoiled food.

  The nurse slowly strolled around the room, patting the other twin’s back and trying to get him to sleep. “Go ahead,” she said to Bernice. “We’ll be fine.” Then she stopped at the table to look at the photographs on the shelf above it—the only two pictures Bernice owned, one of her and her husband on their wedding day, him in a chair and her standing with one hand on his shoulder, and one of her holding Wallis in his christening gown.

  Sweat broke out on Bernice’s upper lip. “After he falls asleep you can go,” she said, trying to distract her. “I’m sure there are other people who need you more than we do.”

  “I don’t mind,” the nurse said, still studying the pictures. After what seemed like forever, she turned, confusion lining her brow. “You and the woman in these photographs bear an awfully strong resemblance to each other.”


  Bernice dug her nails into her palms. “I know,” she said. “Everyone says my sister and I look like twins.”

  The nurse’s brows shot up. “Are you saying this is your sister’s apartment?”

  Silently cursing herself, Bernice nodded.

  “I thought you were checking on a friend?” the nurse said.

  Bernice made her eyes go wide. “Is that what I said?” She put a hand to her chest, feigning embarrassment. “Good heavens. I must be having the vapors. After everything that’s been happening I can’t seem to think straight. I meant to say I was checking on my sister.”

  The nurse’s forehead furrowed. “But you said your sister was dead. I was going to send someone to your apartment to pick up her body, remember?” She glanced at the makeshift sack Bernice had tripped over, and the folded diapers and baby nightdresses spilling out onto the floor. “And why did you bring clothes and diapers with you if you’re only staying long enough to check on someone?”

  Bernice clenched her jaw, the deep trembling of fear turning into shakes of anger. This nosy nurse needed to leave. Where was she when Wallis got sick? Where was she when he couldn’t breathe? No nurse came around to help then. No nurse knocked on her door to offer medicine or comfort or advice then. No nurse stopped by to ask how they were faring. “I have more than one sister,” Bernice said, struggling to conceal her frustration. “And I brought extra diapers in case she needed me to stay longer than I planned.”

  The nurse looked doubtful. “Why don’t you see if your sister is awake?” she said. “I’d like to talk to her, if she doesn’t mind.” The baby in her arms had fallen asleep, so she laid him on the jacket with his brother, then regarded Bernice with suspicion. “I’ll wait.”

  Shaken into silence by rage and fear, Bernice turned and went over to the bedroom door. She rapped on it lightly as if someone were inside, then opened it and went in. She had to get rid of the nurse but had no idea how. She closed the door and sat on her bed, making the rusty springs creak. She froze with the sound, certain the nurse could hear everything. Then she had an idea.