The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  Dr. Hudson stroked her hair, his brow lined with concern. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” he said. “Daddy’s just trying to help you feel better. We’re almost done, I promise.”

  Mrs. Hudson bent over her tiny, frightened daughter, put her lips softly next to her ear, and started to sing.

  Hush little baby, don’t say a word,

  Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

  And if that mockingbird won’t sing,

  Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

  Listening intently to her mother’s soft voice, Elizabeth finally started to settle, her breath hitching in her chest, her chin quivering. Pia blinked back tears, remembering how Ollie and Max used to do the same thing when Mutti sang to them. She couldn’t wait for this to be over, for Elizabeth’s sake as well as her own. And for Margaret and Sophie, who were surely scared they might lose another sibling. If only she could take them out of the room to save them from seeing their little sister suffer, but Dr. and Mrs. Hudson needed her help.

  Trying to push away the jumbled, swirling thoughts about her brothers, Nurse Wallis, Elizabeth, and the girls, she skimmed the room and took note of the cotton balls, the wooden tongue depressors, and the shiny, sharp objects in the glass-faced cabinet. She studied the device used for looking in ears hanging from a hook, the brown bottles of tinctures and medicines on the wooden shelf. There were so many ways to treat illness—goose-grease poultices, sulfur fumes, onion syrup, chloride of lime—but the flu had been stronger than them all. And now, some other invisible illness was trying to take beautiful little Elizabeth. No wonder Mrs. Hudson never wanted to leave the house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PIA

  “I know we haven’t had time to talk since Elizabeth got sick,” Mrs. Hudson said to Pia. “But I’d like to know why you didn’t tell me about your brothers until the incident with Nurse Wallis the other day.”

  They were sitting in the parlor in the wingback chairs, Cooper napping in the cradle and the girls on the floor playing with dolls and blocks. After the cupping in Dr. Hudson’s office, and three days and nights of bread and milk poultices, elderberry blossom tea, and laudanum drops in her ears, Elizabeth’s fever dropped and her chest and nose cleared. Now, thankfully, she laughed and played with her sisters as if nothing had ever been wrong. During that time, Mrs. Hudson had talked little, and never about anything that didn’t pertain to her sick child. Until now.

  Pia studied the floral pattern on the rug, hesitant to look her in the eye. Since the confrontation with Nurse Wallis, the heated exchange had gotten mixed up in her desperate mind, and she was starting to have doubts that the nurse knew anything about Ollie and Max. Maybe Nurse Wallis was torturing her on purpose because she didn’t like her. Maybe she was getting revenge for the first time they’d met, when Pia had screamed at her and accused her of playing a cruel trick. Or maybe imagining Nurse Wallis knew something about her brothers was just wishful thinking. Still, despite her uncertainties, Pia was relieved Mrs. Hudson had started the discussion. She needed to tell her the truth once and for all, no matter what her reaction might be. Especially before Nurse Wallis came back to pick up the rest of her money.

  “I was worried you’d send me away, ma’am,” she said.

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Because when I tell you what happened to my brothers, you might not want me around your children.”

  “I trust you with my children,” Mrs. Hudson said. “But now you’re scaring me. Please tell me so I can stop thinking the worst.”

  Pia took a deep breath and, somehow, told Mrs. Hudson the truth, even while her heart shattered into a million pieces for the hundredth time. With every turn in her story, Mrs. Hudson’s eyes grew wider and wider.

  “No one would help me,” Pia said. “They were afraid to answer their doors, and I don’t blame them.” The memory of those helpless moments—the awful realization that something was dreadfully wrong before she collapsed, the grip of panic that seized her heart when she woke up six days later, the horror of finding her brothers gone—came rushing back, washing over her in alternating waves of terror and guilt. Tears blurred her vision.

  “My God,” Mrs. Hudson said. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry. I can only imagine what you must have gone through.” She got up and knelt in front of her on the rug, in her drop-waist charmeuse dress and satin shoes, and laid a handkerchief in Pia’s lap. Pia took it and wiped her eyes, waiting for her to tell her to leave, or worse. Maybe she’d call the police.

  “If I’d known what was going to happen,” Pia said. “I swear I never would have left the twins alone. They had to be so scared.”

  Mrs. Hudson gazed up at her with a tired, kind expression. “I understand,” she said. “But you need to stop blaming yourself. When the flu first broke out, it was a horrible, terrifying time. It felt like the world was coming to an end. You did the best you could under dreadful circumstances, and that’s all we can ask of ourselves. Not to mention, you’re only a thirteen-year-old girl. I’m a grown woman with everything I need right here, and I’m still not that brave.”

  “But whatever happened to them is my fault,” Pia said. She sniffed and dried her cheeks again. “That’s why I don’t deserve everything you’ve done for me.” She hadn’t expected to cry, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t deserve anything, let alone anyone’s pity or compassion. “If you want me to leave, I understand.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Hudson said. She glanced over at the girls to make sure they weren’t listening. Margaret and Sophie were busy changing their dolls’ clothes, and Elizabeth was stacking blocks. She lowered her voice. “Is it my fault Leo got sick and died?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What about your mother? Is it her fault she caught the flu?”

  Pia looked down at her lap and shook her head, crumpling the handkerchief in her fist.

  “Then how can it be your fault you got sick and couldn’t make it back to your brothers?”

  Pia shrugged and unraveled the handkerchief, pulling it apart with trembling fingers.

  “You do realize you would have gotten sick no matter what, don’t you? Even if you’d stayed home, you would have collapsed. You said yourself you were only gone a few hours.”

  Pia shrugged again. “I guess.”

  “So whatever happened to your brothers might have happened anyway. And instead of sitting here talking to me, you’d probably be dead.”

  Pia gazed up at Mrs. Hudson, stunned by her words. She was right. In the cubby or not, Ollie and Max probably would have been alone in the apartment when she got sick. And if she’d died, which would have been likely, who knows how long it would have been before someone found them? But that didn’t lessen her remorse about leaving them. And yet, she felt like she could take a deep breath for the first time in months. She wiped her eyes and managed a weak smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “For what?”

  “For trying to make me feel better, and for not asking me to leave.”

  “Thank you for being honest with me,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I just wish I had known sooner. I hate to think of you carrying such a heavy burden on your young shoulders. It must have been awful to be so scared and worried all this time with no one to confide in.” She got up and returned to the other chair. “No more secrets, all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Pia twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. Maybe she was pushing her luck, but she had to know. “May I ask you something, ma’am?”

  “Of course, Pia, anything.”

  Pia hesitated, unsure if she should continue.

  “Please,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Tell me what you were going to say. No more secrets, remember?”

  Pia nodded. “Well, I... I didn’t mean to, but I overheard you and Nurse Wallis talking and... I saw what you gave her.”

  Mrs. Hudson shifted in her chair, picking imaginary lint from her skirt. “It was a donation,” she said. “For the orphans.”


  “Then why don’t you want Dr. Hudson to know?”

  Color bloomed on Mrs. Hudson’s cheeks. When she finally met Pia’s gaze again, she said, “Because he’d be angry if he knew the truth.”

  “I swear I won’t tell, ma’am. I’m only asking because I feel like Nurse Wallis might know something about my brothers.”

  Mrs. Hudson frowned. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because of the things she asked me, and because she kept saying I was lying. How did she know I wasn’t being honest?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a good question.”

  “I’m sorry to keep prying, ma’am, but what’s the truth about the money you gave her?”

  Mrs. Hudson leaned forward and lowered her voice, her face taut with guilt. “It was a finder’s fee.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pia said. “But I don’t know what that is.”

  “It was a payment for finding Cooper. Nurse Wallis said she finds babies for people who lost children or can’t have their own, then charges a fee to help with the expenses. I didn’t ask her to find Cooper, but she said I had to pay her anyway, so she could help other children. Otherwise...” She paused, misery contorting her features.

  Pia clenched her jaw, waiting for her to finish. The more she learned about Nurse Wallis, the more she wondered if she was telling the truth about anything. “Otherwise what, ma’am?”

  “Otherwise, she’d have to find someone who could pay.”

  Pia drew in a sharp breath. In that moment, her understanding of Nurse Wallis seemed complete. She cared nothing about children, least of all two young German brothers. Every kindness and thoughtful gesture, every smile and act of sacrifice, were nothing but a disguise. Maybe Pia’s suspicions about her were right after all. An image flashed in her mind—the look on Nurse Wallis’s face when Pia had asked her to help find Ollie and Max, both at the orphanage and at the Hudsons’. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Excuse me for saying so, ma’am, but that doesn’t seem right. It sounds like...” Pia hesitated, unsure if she should say what she was thinking.

  “It sounds like what?” Mrs. Hudson said. “Please, finish what you were saying.”

  “It sounds like she’s selling children, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Hudson froze, aghast.

  “When I tried looking at her ledger,” Pia said, “there was quite a lot of money in her bag and I wondered where it came from.” She started to say more but suddenly had another thought. Her heart skipped a beat and she sat up straighter. “Maybe that’s why she won’t look for Ollie and Max. Maybe she knows where they are because she sold them to someone.”

  Mrs. Hudson’s fingers fluttered to her collar. “Oh dear.” She moved to the edge of her seat. “But if that’s what she’s doing, where does she...” She swallowed as if trying not to get sick.

  “Where does she what, ma’am?”

  “Where does she get the children? Where did she get Cooper?” She gaped at Pia with panic-filled eyes. “What if she took him from someone?”

  Pia shook her head. “I don’t think that’s how she’s getting them,” she said. “When I was at St. Vincent’s, abandoned babies came in all the time. And I saw her picking up older kids there too. Her story about Cooper might be the one thing she’s not lying about.”

  “Good Lord,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Well, I hope you’re right.” She let out a trembling breath and sat back in the chair, her face pale.

  “When do you think she’ll come back to get the rest of the money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did she happen to tell you where she lived?”

  Mrs. Hudson shook her head. “No, otherwise the way I’m feeling right now, I’d be tempted to send the police after her.”

  Pia was unsure how to pose her next question, scared of saying the wrong thing, more scared of being told no. But there was no other choice. She had to ask before she lost her nerve. “I know it’s a lot to ask, ma’am, but do you think Dr. Hudson could find out more about her, and maybe look for my brothers at the same time? Maybe he can search hospital records and talk to other doctors and nurses?”

  Mrs. Hudson sat up, nodding. “Of course. I’ll ask him this evening.”

  Pia let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “I hate to ask for more help, but do you think it might also be possible for him to find out if my father came back from the war?”

  “I’ll see.”

  “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me, ma’am.”

  “After everything you’ve done for us, the very least we can do is help you try to find your family.”

  Pia chewed on the inside of her cheek, scared to keep asking for more but knowing she had to try. “Forgive me for being so needy, ma’am, but what about allowing me to go to our old apartment to see if the people living there now have any news?”

  Uncertainty pinched Mrs. Hudson’s face, her eyes glazing over with exhaustion and worry. She seemed torn between fear and trying to help. “Let me talk to Dr. Hudson,” she said. “You know how we feel about the possibility of the flu still being around. If he thinks it’s safe and he can support your search, I’ll make sure he takes you there himself.”

  A burning lump formed in Pia’s throat. Finally someone was willing to help. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said again, her voice catching.

  * * *

  The next morning, after Pia told Dr. Hudson everything, he said he’d take her to her family’s old apartment on his next day off, which was the following week, as long as the number of reported flu cases kept steadily dropping. In the meantime, as soon as he was done seeing patients for the day, he’d telephone the head nun at St. Vincent’s to ask about Nurse Wallis. It would take him a few days, but he’d also make phone calls and send telegrams about her brothers to every doctor he knew, the rest of the orphanages in the city, and the heads of the hospitals too. He warned her he might not find any answers but promised he’d try his best. And to her that was all that mattered. Finally, someone of importance was listening, someone was willing to help. Finally, she had hope. Her only regret was not confiding in the Hudsons sooner.

  That night, when Dr. Hudson took his chair at the head of the dinner table, it was all Pia could do to sit still. She fidgeted with the silverware and fussed with the napkin in her lap, wishing she were brave enough to ask if he’d talked to Mother Joe yet. The telephone was in his office, so she had no way of knowing if he’d called her like he promised. But she didn’t want to appear pushy or ungrateful. The only thing she could do was hope Mrs. Hudson was anxious to hear if he’d spoken to her too.

  While the corn fritters and veal loaf were passed around the table, and Mrs. Hudson cut her husband’s meat, Pia felt like she might jump out of her skin. After everyone’s plates were filled, Mrs. Hudson sat down in her chair, put her napkin on her lap, and started feeding Elizabeth. Pia stared at her, mentally willing her to ask her husband if he had made the phone call.

  Finally, Mrs. Hudson said, “Did you have a chance to call St. Vincent’s, dear?”

  Dr. Hudson nodded, chewing. “Yes, I spoke to a Mother Joe.”

  Pia’s throat seemed to close around the meat she was swallowing. She put down her fork and knife, picked up her napkin, and wiped her mouth.

  “Does she know Nurse Wallis?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  He nodded again. “She said she was a saint. Couldn’t sing her praises high enough. Said she’s helped more orphans in recent months than she could remember anyone else doing, both babies and older children.”

  Pia and Mrs. Hudson exchanged a knowing glance. They’d only told Dr. Hudson that Nurse Wallis might know something about Ollie and Max, not about their other suspicions. Mrs. Hudson planned to tell him, but not yet. Not until she saw how much he could find out.

  “Did Mother Joe know about Nurse Wallis bringing Cooper here?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  “No, I didn’t tell her anything about him. Why would I?”

  “I was just wonderi
ng if Nurse Wallis asked Mother Joe if they had room for him at St. Vincent’s,” Mrs. Hudson said. She looked nervously at Pia, realizing she’d almost told him more than she planned, then quickly asked him another question. “What about Nurse Wallis’s address? Does Mother Joe have it?”

  Dr. Hudson shook his head. “They don’t keep information like that on non-staff members. It’s not like she’s on the payroll or anything.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Pia said. “But did Mother Joe know if Nurse Wallis had visited the orphanage recently?”

  “She said she hasn’t seen her in about a week. But I asked her to get her address if she stopped in again, and to give me a call when she did.”

  “What about the hospitals?” Mrs. Hudson said. “Would anyone there know how to find her?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Dr. Hudson said. “During the epidemic, any able-bodied woman with or without nursing experience was called on to help, which means a lot of untrained women joined the nursing ranks. Some continued to practice, others didn’t. Some went to work for hospitals or doctors, some went to work on their own, visiting needy families. So there’s no way of knowing if she ever worked at a hospital or not.”

  “But she had a uniform, sir,” Pia said. “Someone must know who she is.”

  “I’ll check with the Red Cross,” Dr. Hudson said.

  “Did you ask Mother Joe if she knew anything about Pia’s brothers?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  “Yes, she didn’t remember taking in twins after the first outbreak, either boys or girls. But she also admitted their record-keeping was disorderly at best, especially during the first months of the epidemic.”

  “So there’s still a chance my brothers might have gone through St. Vincent’s,” Pia said.

  “Or any of the other orphanages or poorhouses in the city,” Dr. Hudson said. “When I told Mother Joe we were looking for two baby boys, she said thousands of children were orphaned by the flu, and the orphanages were so overcrowded the Children’s Bureau asked people to open their homes to them. Others were being kept in groups in rented houses. A few remained in the homes they were sent to, but most were eventually sent to orphanages or other families outside the city.”