The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  “Oh dear,” Bernice said. “I’m so sorry.” She had to get out of there. Had to get up and go. But she couldn’t. Her legs suddenly felt useless, her insides like gelatin. She started to straighten, to say goodbye, but Mrs. Winston seized her hands.

  “I want you to see him,” Mrs. Winston said. “I want you to see how beautiful he is before they take—”

  “No,” Bernice said, louder than she intended. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I need to—”

  “Please,” Mrs. Winston begged. She stood, pulling Bernice up, and started to drag her by the hands across the foyer. “I want you to see our boy. He needs people to see him, to remember him like he is now.”

  Mr. Winston grasped his wife by the shoulders and tried to slow her progress. “It’s all right, darling,” he said. “She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. She lost her son too, remember?”

  With that, Mrs. Winston stopped and let go, her face falling as if she’d had a sudden realization. “I can’t do this,” she cried. “I can’t live without him. I want to die! I want to go with him!” Then her legs buckled and she fell on the floor howling, her knees and elbows cracking on the tile.

  Tears flooded Bernice’s eyes. She knew exactly what Mrs. Winston was feeling; an anguish so overwhelming it felt like a giant hand had ripped out her insides. Every wail from the poor woman pierced Bernice’s chest. She wanted to go home, to get as far away from this shattered mother as possible. If she stayed any longer, the fragile pieces of her broken heart would fall apart again too. Then she looked at Mr. Winston standing there helplessly, watching his wife shudder and scream on the floor. No matter how hard it was for her to see this grieving couple, she couldn’t abandon them yet.

  “Do you have any whiskey left?” she said.

  He nodded and went to get it.

  She knelt and rubbed Mrs. Winston’s quaking back, perfectly aware it provided no comfort but doing it anyway. “It’s going to be all right,” she said. “I know it doesn’t seem possible right now, but you’re going to get through this. It will take time, trust me, but you’re going to pick yourself up and keep going because your husband needs you. And because your son would want you to stay strong.” Saying those words reminded her that Wallis would have wanted her to stay strong too, and she wondered again if, somehow, he was behind her finding the twins, the nurse showing up at her apartment, and her seeing Mr. and Mrs. Patterson’s Room for Rent sign. Her life had been completely turned around since he left this earth. There had to be more to it than luck.

  Mr. Winston returned with the bottle of whiskey and knelt in front of his wife. Bernice got the woman up on her knees and he held the bottle to her lips. At first, Mrs. Winston turned away and shook her head, her eyes closed. Then she grabbed the bottle with both hands and drank a good number of generous swigs, barely stopping long enough to breathe between swallows. Bernice let her drink quite a bit, then pried the bottle from her grasp and gave it back to Mr. Winston, who took a few swigs too. Mrs. Winston slumped over and lay sobbing in Bernice’s lap, her tears falling on her nurse uniform. Bernice rubbed her convulsing shoulders, fighting her own flood of emotions.

  Mr. Winston leaned against the wall and eyed Bernice gratefully. “Thank you for helping us,” he said.

  “I wish I could do more,” she said.

  Then she had an idea.

  * * *

  Following the chubby nun with the birthmark down the shadowy hallway of St. Vincent’s Orphan Asylum, Bernice couldn’t help thinking about how easy it had been to convince Mother Joe to give her a baby. All it had taken was a piece of paper with the name and address of the adoptive parents, and her reassurance that they were a suitable family of high moral standing. The fact that she’d dropped babies off at St. Vincent’s before certainly helped, but she wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without the nurse uniform. In fact, she was dropping off a child now, a ten-month-old Irish girl whose mother was living on the streets. After that, she was going to choose a white baby for Mr. and Mrs. Winston, who recently lost their infant son.

  It was the first time she’d been taken to the baby ward, and when she entered, she slowed, shocked to see row after row of white cribs in the high-ceilinged room. Babies of all ages filled every mattress, napping, wailing, drinking bottles, sucking thumbs, and cuddling blankets. She stopped at the first crib, her hand on her hammering heart. A newborn swaddled in cotton gauze lay on his back blinking up at her, his velvety pink mouth in a tiny O. He reminded her of Wallis and the twins.

  The Irish girl on her hip peeked into the crib too. “Baba,” she said.

  Bernice wanted to scoop the baby boy up and take him home with her. But she couldn’t. She already had her hands full with the twins. Plus, she was here to look for a baby for Mr. and Mrs. Winston. Maybe he could be their new son. Noticing she’d stopped, the chubby nun turned to look at her.

  “The Lord has blessed that little one,” she said. “His new family is picking him up tomorrow.”

  “How wonderful,” Bernice said. “Will he be staying in the city?”

  “Yes,” the nun said. “In a lovely big house with his two big sisters.”

  Bernice smiled. At least the infant would have a home. And in Philadelphia, no less. They needed to keep babies like him here. “I had no idea you had such a large number of babies in your care. Why are there so many?”

  “Because of the sin of this world, Nurse Wallis,” the nun said. “And more recently, of course, because of the flu. We’re not sure yet how many children were orphaned in the city during the epidemic, but hundreds, certainly. Maybe thousands.” She turned and kept going. Bernice followed, thinking again about how grateful she was that Wallis would never have to live without her.

  At the other end of the baby ward, a pale girl stood folding diapers while another rocked and fed an infant. Bernice swore under her breath. She recognized the girl in the rocking chair.

  Was there no escaping Pia Lange?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PIA

  Christmas came and went at the orphanage, with a short, bedraggled tree put up in the recreation room by the nuns, extra church services, and gifts for each child, either a book or small toy, donated by the parishioners of St. Vincent’s. Pia received a stuffed rabbit with pink ears and gave it to Gigi.

  A week later, Pia looked up from feeding Nicolai and saw Sister Agnes enter the baby ward and march down the center aisle, the cross around her waist swinging back and forth. Pia sat up straighter, hoping the nun was coming to tell her Mother Joe had finally approved her release. Then she noticed a nurse behind her with a baby girl on one hip, and her stomach twisted. It was the nurse who threatened to have her sent for a mental evaluation, Nurse Wallis. What was she doing there? The nurse stopped at a crib and viewed the baby inside, her hand over her heart. The girl on her hip looked to be around ten months old, with a headful of red hair that reminded Pia of Finn’s mother. She was barefoot and bare-legged, in a dress that looked two sizes too big. Why hadn’t Nurse Wallis left the baby at the front desk like last time? If only Pia could leave or hide instead of facing her again, but there was nowhere to go. All she could do was keep quiet and concentrate on feeding Nicolai.

  Sister Agnes addressed Pia and Edith, who was folding diapers at the changing table. “Girls,” she said, “this is Nurse Wallis. She’s dropping off this poor child who was left outside the steps of a hospital, bless her heart. Not to mention along with her regular duties, she’s recently found homes for three of our hard-to-place older children. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yes, Sister Agnes,” Edith and Pia said at the same time.

  Sister Agnes turned toward the nurse. “Surely there’s a special place in heaven for you, Nurse Wallis.”

  Color rose on Nurse Wallis’s cheeks and she gave the nun an awkward smile. “It’s my pleasure, Sister,” she said. “I’ve always loved helping children.”

  Pia looked directly at the nurse for the first time since she came into the r
oom. If she loved helping children, would she help her? More than anything, Pia wanted to ask if she’d run across twin baby boys during her visits to orphanages and hospitals. But what if she was still upset about their last encounter and followed through with her threat?

  Sister Agnes took the baby girl from Nurse Wallis and directed her attention to Edith.

  “Please show Nurse Wallis the youngest infant in our care,” she said. “It seems she’s found a lovely Christian couple willing to take one of our babies. Another blessing, to be sure.”

  “Yes, Sister Agnes,” Edith said. She finished folding the diaper in her hands, then led Nurse Wallis into the sea of cribs.

  With Nicolai fed and asleep in her arms, Pia stood and approached Sister Agnes and the redheaded baby girl. “She’s beautiful,” she said. The little girl seemed confused and frightened as she blinked and looked around with glassy hazel eyes.

  “This is Alannah,” Sister Agnes said, pushing a stray curl off the girl’s forehead with a gentle hand. “It’s a charming name, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is,” Pia said. She cupped Alannah’s cheek in her hand and smiled at her, brushing her thumb across her soft skin and waiting. Thankfully, no pain throbbed in Pia’s head, no nausea churned in her stomach. The girl felt healthy. Pia tickled her under the chin. “Hello, sweet Alannah. I know you’re scared, but we’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

  Sister Agnes beamed at Pia. “Bless you, child. You’ve certainly found your calling helping these destitute children. I’m sure there’s a special place in heaven for you too, right next to Nurse Wallis.”

  Pia forced a weak smile. If Sister Agnes knew the truth about her brothers, she wouldn’t think Pia had found her calling, or that she deserved a special place in heaven. Quite the opposite. And surely the nuns wouldn’t let her take care of the babies at St. Vincent’s. Shame crept up her neck, making her skin hot and itchy.

  “Sister Agnes?” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Yes, child?”

  “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” Sister Agnes brushed another curl from the little girl’s forehead and tried to push her hair behind her ears so it would stay out of her face.

  “Do you think Nurse Wallis might know something about my brothers? Or maybe she’d be willing to look for them?”

  “I have no idea,” Sister Agnes said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” She kept fussing with the baby, straightening the collar on her dirty dress, rubbing a smudge from her cheek.

  “Could you ask for me?”

  Sister Agnes looked at her then, surprised. “Whatever for? She seems nice enough and more than willing to help. There’s absolutely no reason to be afraid of her. And you know what they say, child, ‘The Lord helps those who help themselves.’”

  Saying she had every reason to be afraid of Nurse Wallis was on the tip of Pia’s tongue, but obviously Sister Agnes hadn’t heard about the incident with the baby in the foyer. Pia was about to tell her what happened when Edith and Nurse Wallis came back down the aisle. Nurse Wallis had a baby boy in her arms, a three-month-old named Joseph who had arrived a few days ago. Sister Agnes put Alannah in a crib with another baby and hurried to meet them. Pia laid Nicolai in his crib and followed, trying to gather her courage. If it turned out to be the only chance she had to ask the nurse for help she couldn’t waste it, no matter how scared she was. But she had to be careful.

  Edith and Nurse Wallis were letting Sister Agnes admire Joseph.

  “Nurse Wallis?” Pia blurted out before she lost her nerve. “If you don’t mind, may I ask you something?”

  The nurse looked up from the baby, her face unreadable. “Certainly,” she said.

  Pia did her best to act friendly. “Thank you,” she said. “I was just wondering... I mean... Sister Agnes said you know a lot of people and you said you loved helping children, so I was wondering if you could help me find my brothers. They’re twins, just four months old and . . . Well, almost seven months now... But anyway, they have blond hair and blue eyes, and they’ve been missing since October.”

  Nurse Wallis pressed her lips together, then gazed down at the baby again. She shifted him higher into the crook of one arm and adjusted the blanket around his head. “I suppose I can try,” she said without looking up. “What part of the city are you from?”

  Pia couldn’t help noticing the way the nurse clenched her jaw after she answered, and how her temples pulsed in and out. Was she annoyed? In a hurry? Whatever it was, Pia couldn’t let her reaction stop her. “The Fifth Ward,” she said. “We lived on Shunk Alley. You might not know where that is because it’s—”

  “I know it,” Nurse Wallis said.

  Pia pressed her nails into her palms, trying to maintain her composure. She didn’t want to seem too anxious, or upset the nurse again. She was the only person who might be able to help. “Have you been there since the flu started?”

  “No,” Nurse Wallis said. “I have no reason to go into that neighborhood.”

  “What about all the orphanages and hospitals you’ve been to?” Pia said. “Have you seen twin boys with blond hair and blue eyes anywhere?”

  Nurse Wallis finally looked up at her and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.” She started to turn away, then stopped and regarded Pia again. “I find it interesting that you said your brothers were missing. What happened to them? Did someone take them?”

  Pia glanced at the floor and swallowed. “My mother and I got sick and—”

  “And what?” Nurse Wallis said. She stared at Pia with hard eyes, almost as if she could read her mind.

  Pia felt like she couldn’t breathe. “I... I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why I need your help.”

  Nurse Wallis sniffed dismissively. “Well, if I hear or see anything, I’ll be sure to let Mother Joe know.” Clearly finished talking to Pia, she directed her attention to Sister Agnes. “Thank you again for helping me, Sister. I hope it comforts you to know this child is going to a wonderful home.”

  “No, thank you,” Sister Agnes said. “The good Lord knows we could use more people like you in this city.”

  “I do what I can,” Nurse Wallis said. She started to leave, then stopped and turned to Sister Agnes again. “Perhaps next time I find a nice family willing to take in a baby, you could bring a few of them to another room for me to choose from. It breaks my heart seeing so many at the same time, knowing I can’t possibly help them all.”

  “Oh yes,” Sister Agnes said. “Of course. I understand.”

  “Thank you,” Nurse Wallis said. “I’d appreciate that.” She gave Edith and Pia a quick nod, then started toward the door again.

  “Wait,” Pia called after her. “Could you ask the other nurses you work with if they’ve seen twin boys anywhere?”

  “I will,” Nurse Wallis called over her shoulder.

  Pia started to follow her, hoping to say more, but Sister Agnes caught her by the arm. Pia pulled away before she could feel anything wrong with the nun.

  “That’s enough, child,” Sister Agnes said. “It’s all right to ask for help, but don’t badger the poor woman. She said she’d keep an eye out for your brothers, so I’m sure she will. That’s all she can do.”

  “Their names are Ollie and Max,” Pia shouted after Nurse Wallis.

  Sister Agnes gave her a hard look, shaking her head, then followed Nurse Wallis out of the baby ward.

  After they were gone, Pia stared at the closed door, hopelessness falling over her like a shroud. Even if Nurse Wallis could help, Pia didn’t think she would. Between what happened the first time they met, and the fact that she was busy helping so many other children, she probably didn’t have the time or desire to get involved in Pia’s problems. Pia trudged back to where Edith was changing Alannah into a clean nightdress. “I don’t think Nurse Wallis likes me,” she said.

  “Who cares?” Edith said. “I know she doesn’t l
ike me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You heard her tell Sister Agnes she doesn’t want to come in here again. It’s because of me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, first off, she wouldn’t even look at the girls. And second, she didn’t want Yakov, even though he’s the youngest boy here.”

  Pia frowned. “Why not? He’s perfect.”

  “Because he’s Turkish. She said the couple specified a white baby.”

  “Oh my God. What did you say?”

  “I asked why she’d give any baby to a couple of bigots.”

  Pia gasped, then started to chuckle. “Good for you,” she said. “I wish I were that brave.”

  For the first time since Pia arrived, Edith smiled.

  * * *

  A week after Nurse Wallis dropped off Alannah, Pia and Edith hurried through the door leading out to the play yard to get some fresh air before supper. The sun was out for the first time in weeks, and they couldn’t wait to feel its warmth. Pia followed Edith down the steps and across the lawn toward the river, sidestepping melting snow and piles of slush. The other children walked around the yard, jumping over puddles and running sticks along the fence. Sister Ernestine stood guard at the door, ready to reprimand anyone who dared get dirty or wet.

  Pia and Edith headed straight for the far edge of the yard, an unspoken understanding between them that they wanted to get as far away from the orphanage and the watchful eyes of Sister Ernestine as possible. When they reached the fence, Pia gripped the rails and gazed out over the river, wishing she could climb over to its rocky banks and follow the shores back into the city. The river looked deep and brown and cold, and the smell of muddy water hung in the air, equal parts iron and wet rock. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and turned her face toward the sun. Since Thanksgiving, the weather had been dreadful, with snow or icy rain every day. Sometimes it seemed as though the sun would never shine again. Then this morning, it had finally broken through the clouds. She and Edith had waited all day to get outside, and she intended to soak in its rays for as long as possible. Blue jays screeched in the pines bordering the yard, and a train whistled in the distance. Except for the chill in the breeze, it almost felt like spring.