Pia’s heart dropped like an anvil in her chest. How would she ever find Ollie and Max amongst thousands of orphans, especially if some had been sent away?
“Would they have records of all those children?” Mrs. Hudson said.
“Possibly,” Dr. Hudson said. “But certainly a good number of them fell through the cracks.”
Pia pushed the food around on her plate, what little appetite she had, gone. The situation seemed hopeless. And no matter how painful it was—even if she was right about Nurse Wallis, even if they could find her, even if they could search the names of all the children orphaned by the flu—she needed to remember there was still a chance Ollie and Max might not have survived being left in the cubby in the first place.
* * *
Two days later, a Saturday, Pia was on her way to wake Elizabeth from her nap when the doorbell rang, long and loud. She went back down the stairs and hurried to answer it, hoping against hope it would be someone Dr. Hudson had talked to over the past couple of days—either the head of the Red Cross or one of his doctor friends—coming to tell her Ollie and Max had been found. The No Visitors sign was still on the door, so whoever had rung the bell must need something important. But when she reached the foyer and put her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. What if it was Nurse Wallis?
She braced herself and pulled the sidelight curtain aside to look out. A young woman in a brown coat stood on the porch, loose corkscrews of straw-colored hair hanging around her forehead, the rest pulled back in a frizzy ponytail. She looked to be about eighteen, with a pale face and dark rings under her blue eyes.
“May I help you?” Pia said through the door.
“Mother Joe sent me,” the young woman said.
Pia’s heart started to race. Maybe Mother Joe had called Dr. Hudson with news about Nurse Wallis but couldn’t get through. Maybe she sent someone to deliver a message in person instead. She opened the door with shaking hands.
The young woman smiled and held out a brown paper package wrapped up in string. “I found this on the porch,” she said brightly.
The package was addressed to Dr. and Mrs. Hudson. Pia took it and said, “You said Mother Joe sent you?”
“That’s right. She said your mother was looking for help with the children.”
Pia frowned, confused. Why would Mother Joe say Mrs. Hudson was looking for help with the children? Did Dr. Hudson tell her that was the case? Had Mrs. Hudson changed her mind about keeping her there? Maybe being honest about Ollie and Max had been a mistake after all. She swallowed the rising panic in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but you must have the wrong house.”
“Then why did you take the package?” The young woman pointed at the name on the letterbox. “It says this is the home of Dr. and Mrs. Hudson.”
Before Pia could respond, Mrs. Hudson came into the foyer behind her, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Who’s there?” she said. “Is it Nurse Wallis?”
Pia stepped aside so Mrs. Hudson could see who was at the door, her heart in her throat. Would she be surprised to see the girl, or did she know she was coming?
When Mrs. Hudson saw her, she stopped halfway across the foyer, her forehead lined with concern. “What can we do for you, miss?”
“Good day, Mrs. Hudson,” the young woman said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Rebecca Stillman. Mother Joe at St. Vincent’s sent me. She said you might need help around the house.”
Mrs. Hudson shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there must be some mistake. I’m not employing anyone right now.”
Pia’s shoulders loosened in relief. They weren’t getting rid of her after all.
“But I can do anything, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “I’m good at cleaning, cooking, gardening, taking care of children, whatever you might need.”
“I don’t need anything,” Mrs. Hudson said. “And I have someone to take care of the children. Perhaps you can come by again in the spring when the garden needs planting.”
“Please, ma’am,” Rebecca said. Her chin suddenly trembled and she looked ready to cry. “I’m begging you. Just give me a chance. I don’t need room and board or anything troublesome like that. I have a place to stay. I just need a little money to take care of my son.” She wiped her flooding eyes. “He’s fresh born, just a few weeks old, and if I don’t find work soon, they’ll take him away from me.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hudson said. “How dreadful.” She looked at Pia, her brows knitted, then directed her attention back to Rebecca. “I wish I could help you, I truly do. But I can’t allow just anyone into our home. Not with the flu still making the rounds.”
“I understand completely, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m healthy as a horse, and honest too.”
“You might be today,” Mrs. Hudson said. “But who knows what might happen down the road.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I already had the flu, last year when I was in New York. The doctors said I got over it faster than anyone they’d ever seen. Been strong and well ever since.”
Mrs. Hudson studied Rebecca, nervously looking her up and down and fingering the lace on her collar, clearly torn between worry and wanting to help. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to lose your baby.”
“Please, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “If you hire me, I promise you won’t be sorry. Mother Joe told me to tell you so.”
Mrs. Hudson pressed her lips together, thinking. She smoothed the front of her apron and fidgeted with her collar again. Rebecca glanced at Pia hopefully, as if she could help. Finally, Mrs. Hudson said, “Do you know how to iron and do laundry?”
Rebecca brightened. “Yes, ma’am. I surely do.”
“Well, all right,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Can you come for a few hours in the morning, then? Monday is normally laundry day, but with four children we can hardly keep up. Perhaps you can start tomorrow morning, around eight?”
Rebecca clasped her hands together under her chin, her eyes glistening with gratitude. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
“All right,” Mrs. Hudson said. “We’ll try that for a few days and see how it goes.”
“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me and my boy.”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Hudson said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “I’ll be here at eight sharp.” She moved backward across the porch, pumping her clasped hands up and down. “Thank you again, ma’am. You won’t regret it, I swear.” Then she hurried down the steps and disappeared along the sidewalk.
When she was gone, Pia closed the door and gave the package to Mrs. Hudson. “She found this on the porch,” she said.
Mrs. Hudson took the package, gazing at Pia with doubtful eyes. “Do you think I did the right thing?” she said.
Pia shrugged. “I have no idea, ma’am,” she said. While it was no surprise that Mrs. Hudson would help a mother keep her child, Pia didn’t care one way or another if she hired Rebecca. In truth, it would be nice to see and talk to someone new. At the same time, she wondered why Mother Joe had sent Rebecca to the Hudsons, of all places. “But one thing’s for sure, we certainly need help with the laundry.”
Mrs. Hudson chuckled. “Truer words have never been spoken, Pia,” she said. Then, in a serious tone, “In any case, I couldn’t let them take her baby away from her, could I? That would be horrible.”
Pia agreed. She’d seen enough of mothers and children being separated to last her a lifetime. “No, ma’am,” she said. “You couldn’t. But why do you think Mother Joe sent her here?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Maybe she thought there was a problem because Dr. Hudson called asking questions.”
“Maybe,” Pia said. “Or maybe Mother Joe thinks I’m not doing my job properly.”
“Don’t worry, Pia. It doesn’t matter what Mother Joe thinks. When I said this was your home,
I meant it. Mother Joe can’t do anything about that.”
Pia smiled, her eyes suddenly burning. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “That means more than you know.”
* * *
When Pia took the girls down to the kitchen for breakfast the following day, Rebecca was already there, filling a washtub with dirty linens. Her curly blond hair was piled on top of her head like a bunny tail, all fluffy yellow and cotton-soft. Mrs. Hudson was at the stove, stirring a kettle of Cream of Wheat with a wooden spoon. When Rebecca saw the girls shuffling over to the table rubbing their sleepy eyes, she wiped her wet hands on her apron and hurried toward them, beaming.
“Well, good morning,” she said. “Who are these beautiful little ladies?”
“This is Margaret, Sophie, and Elizabeth,” Pia said, patting the tops of their heads.
Rebecca did a small curtsy, then addressed each girl, calling them Princess Margaret, Princess Sophie, and Princess Elizabeth. “I’m delighted to meet you all. My name is Rebecca.”
The girls stared at her in silence, likely surprised to see someone new in the house.
“Now don’t forget your manners, girls,” Pia said. “It’s polite to speak when spoken to, remember?” She lifted Elizabeth into her high chair, picked up her milk cup from the table, and placed it on the tray.
“Hello,” Sophie and Margaret said at the same time, climbing into their chairs.
“I’m the oldest,” Margaret said. “I’ll be five on my next birthday.”
“Oh my goodness,” Rebecca said. “You’re getting so big.”
“And I’m going to be four,” Sophie said.
“How wonderful,” Rebecca said.
Elizabeth picked up her toddler-size cup with two hands and started drinking, droplets of milk running down her chin. Pia wiped the drips off with a napkin, then helped the girls get started on their steamed prunes and fruit muffins. While Rebecca smiled and stared, Mrs. Hudson brought over the kettle and started ladling Cream of Wheat into the girls’ bowls.
Pia finished cutting Sophie’s muffin in half, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Shall I see if Cooper is awake?” she asked Mrs. Hudson. “Or would you like me to stay with the girls while you get him? I think I heard him stirring in the nursery on my way down.”
“Yes, please get him for me,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I need to show Rebecca how to use the mangle.”
When she was certain the girls were settled and eating, Pia went upstairs to get the baby. He was lying on his back in his crib, watching the shadows of leaves flutter on the ceiling.
“Good morning, precious boy,” she said.
He smiled at her, cooing and putting his small arms in the air.
She reached in and started to lift him from the mattress, then froze. A wooden rattle lay in one corner of the crib, an exact replica of the ones Vater had made for Ollie and Max. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment everything went out of focus. She lay Cooper back down in the crib and picked up the rattle to examine it more closely. It was definitely homemade, with a piece of twine holding four brass bells on each side of the smooth handle. Dr. Hudson couldn’t have carved it, not with one arm. She shook it and tears filled her eyes. It sounded the same as her brothers’ rattles, like sleigh bells at Christmas. She looked at the bottom of the handle. The wood was rough and worn, as if it’d been rubbed against something hard, but she could still make out the blurred remnants of a single initial.
M
She gasped and dropped the rattle, just missing Cooper’s head. It was Max’s rattle. But where did it come from? And how did it get here? She started out of the nursery, trembling and trying to stay upright. She had to ask Mrs. Hudson where it had come from. Then she stopped and went back to the crib. Cooper needed to come too. She couldn’t just leave him there. But she had to hurry. She had to know where the rattle came from before her heart burst from her chest. She reached in for the baby with shaking arms, then paused and rested her hands on the crib railing. Had she lost her mind? There had to be hundreds of homemade rattles, and even more babies with the initial M. Maybe it was Cooper’s rattle. Maybe his real name started with an M. Maybe Nurse Wallis had given it to Mrs. Hudson, and Mrs. Hudson finally felt comfortable giving it to him. She took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. Just because the rattle had an M on the bottom didn’t mean it was Max’s. It could be a coincidence. She picked it up and looked at the handle again, rolling it between her thumb and finger. The M turned into a W. It could have been either one. And yet, the similarities between this rattle and her brothers’ were unnerving.
Just then, Cooper started to fuss, breaking her trance. She set down the rattle, picked him up, and took him over to the dressing table. She was going to ask Mrs. Hudson about the rattle, but it could wait a few minutes. Cooper grinned up at her as she took off his nightclothes and changed his diaper. She smiled mechanically down at him and tickled his warm neck with gentle fingers, her mind elsewhere.
“Are you a happy boy today?” she said. “I think you are.”
He rubbed his small fist across his mouth, trying to suck on his knuckles.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, she finished changing him, got him dressed, then went back downstairs. In the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson was at the sink washing dishes. Rebecca was bent over a tub of steaming water next to the stove, sweat dripping from her red face. When she saw Pia and Cooper, she dropped a wet sheet on the floor and rushed over to get a closer look.
“Oh my word,” she gushed. “Would you look at him? He’s so handsome, he reminds me of my little Simon. And he’s not even crying.” She clasped her hands together under her chin. “I’ve always adored babies. May I hold him for a moment?”
Ignoring the feeling that she might scream before she found out about the rattle, Pia regarded Mrs. Hudson with a question on her face. Did she want to let Rebecca hold Cooper?
Mrs. Hudson shook her head slightly, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and started toward them. “Rebecca,” she said. “I hired you to do the laundry, not play with the children. If there’s time after your work is finished, you can spend a few minutes with Pia and the children then. And you might do well to remember that this is the first time in months I’ve allowed anyone into our home. I’m sure you’ll understand why my husband, myself, and Pia are the only people allowed to hold Cooper right now.”
Rebecca dropped her arms, her hands slapping against her wet apron. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, clearly disappointed, and went back to the steaming washtub.
Pia gave Cooper to Mrs. Hudson. “He’s changed and clean.”
“Thank you, Pia,” Mrs. Hudson said. She kissed Cooper’s forehead. “Good morning, my beautiful boy.” Then to Pia, “I’ll feed him in the other room. Will you keep an eye on things for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” Pia said. More than anything, she wanted to ask about the rattle, but Cooper was hungry. It would have to wait.
While Mrs. Hudson fed Cooper, Pia sat with the girls to make sure they ate their breakfast without squabbling or getting food on their fresh clothes, her leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. Rebecca kept busy scrubbing clothes and diapers on a metal washboard, every once in a while giving Pia and the girls a friendly smile. If nothing else, she was a hard worker. And even though Pia had looked forward to having someone else to talk to, right now she was relieved Rebecca wasn’t trying to start a conversation. She was too preoccupied to chat with anyone, let alone a stranger.
When Mrs. Hudson finally came back into the room, she lay Cooper in the cradle next to the stove, covered him with a blanket, and went back to the sink to dry and put away dishes. Pia got up and went over to her, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Rebecca wasn’t listening. Rebecca was squeezing water out of a sheet, her back to them.
Pia lowered her voice. “If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, where did the wooden rattle in the nursery come from?”
“That old thing?” Mrs. Hudson said. “It was in the packa
ge Rebecca found on the porch yesterday.”
Pia’s mouth went dry. “Do you know who sent it?”
Mrs. Hudson returned a white serving dish to the counter, grabbed a dry dishrag to wipe her hands, and crooked a finger at Pia, motioning for her to follow her into the pantry. When they were out of earshot, she whispered, “It’s the strangest thing. There was no return address, no note, no anything. I wasn’t going to give it to Cooper at first, but Dr. Hudson said maybe his mother had it with her when she was committed, and someone from the asylum sent it to us. So if there’s a chance it’s from his mother, it would have felt wrong not to give it to him.”
“What about the initial on the bottom? Do you have any idea what it stands for?”
“I assumed it was for Cooper’s real name,” Mrs. Hudson said.
Pia clenched her jaw. She’d thought the same thing but was hoping Nurse Wallis had told Mrs. Hudson Cooper’s given name. Now there was no way to know if it was his initial or not. Except why would anyone working at an asylum care about an old homemade rattle, let alone pay the postage to have it delivered? And why not use a return address? Then a sudden realization hit her and her heart started to race.
“I don’t think it came from an asylum,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because if it belonged to Cooper, whoever mailed it had to know he was here. And if Nurse Wallis is doing what we think she’s doing, she wouldn’t tell anyone where he is.”
Mrs. Hudson’s eyes went wide, shining with surprise and nervous energy. Then she jerked her chin toward the kitchen. “What about Rebecca? She said she found the package on the porch.”
“We can ask her, but I don’t think she had any idea what was in it.”
“Why not?”
“Because that rattle is exactly like the rattles my father made for my brothers, with the initial on the bottom and everything. I think Nurse Wallis sent it here.”
Mrs. Hudson put the dishrag to her forehead. “Oh my word.”
The Orphan Collector Page 35