The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  “I don’t know for sure, ma’am, but it makes sense. And I have a strong feeling I’m right.”

  “Like the feeling you had about Leo and Elizabeth?”

  Pia nodded. It wasn’t the same, but if saying it was made Mrs. Hudson take her seriously, she’d agree to anything.

  “Maybe it’s time to tell Dr. Hudson what’s going on,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Maybe he’ll know what to do.”

  Pia nodded again. She wasn’t sure how telling the doctor would help, but anything was worth a try. Except she’d go crazy if they had to wait until he was done working for the day. “May I go talk to him now, ma’am?” she said.

  “Now?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  “Yes, please. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand it if I don’t try and figure this out soon.”

  Mrs. Hudson furrowed her brow, thinking; then she started out of the pantry. “I suppose we could check to see if he has a few minutes to spare between patients.”

  Pia followed, relieved Mrs. Hudson believed her and wanted to get to the bottom of it too. When they came out of the pantry, Rebecca was next to Cooper’s cradle, kneeling on the kitchen rug and singing softly. The minute she saw them, she got up and went back to her work. Mrs. Hudson hung the dishrag over the drying rack and untied her apron.

  “Rebecca,” she said. “We were just discussing the package you found on the porch. Where was it, exactly, when you first saw it?”

  “Why, it was sitting right next to the front door, ma’am,” Rebecca said.

  “So you didn’t see the postman drop it off?” Pia said.

  Rebecca shook her head. “No, it was there when I came up the steps.” She regarded Mrs. Hudson with a worried look. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

  “No,” Mrs. Hudson said. “We’re just wondering where it came from, since there was no return address.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am,” Rebecca said.

  Mrs. Hudson glanced at Pia, like she was about to say something to her, then regarded Rebecca again. “Will you watch the children for a few minutes, please? I need to take Pia over to my husband’s office. I’ll be right back.”

  Rebecca’s face lit up. “Of course, ma’am, I’d be happy to.”

  “If the girls are finished eating,” Mrs. Hudson said, “they can help you clear the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “Take your time.” She wiped her damp brow on the back of her wrist and went over to the girls.

  “I won’t be long,” Mrs. Hudson said. “But if you have any problems at all, the office is through that door and just down the hall. Even if Cooper starts to fuss, don’t pick him up. Just come get me, understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”

  Mrs. Hudson gave her a quick nod, then started out of the kitchen toward her husband’s office. Pia followed, her heart in her throat. After waiting a few minutes while Dr. Hudson finished up with a patient, Mrs. Hudson asked if Pia could speak to him. She intended to go back to the kitchen immediately, but once Pia started explaining everything, she couldn’t pull herself away. Dr. Hudson was shocked by what Pia said, of course, and angry at first that his wife hadn’t confided in him about the money. But he forgave her once she explained how frightened she was when Nurse Wallis threatened to find another home for Cooper if she couldn’t pay.

  “I think Pia is correct about him being abandoned or taken from an orphanage,” he said. “Because, as far as I know, no kidnappings have recently been reported in the city. Some older children have gone missing, but no infants that I’m aware of. Either way, what Nurse Wallis did was wrong.”

  “So you no longer think the rattle came from his mother?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  He shook his head. “Not after what you’ve told me.”

  “Do you think it’s possible to find out if Nurse Wallis sent it?” Pia said.

  “I don’t see how,” he said.

  “Could you ask the postmaster or the letter carrier?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  “Do you know for sure it was mailed?” he said. “Did it have stamps and postmarks on it?”

  Mrs. Hudson’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t remember,” she said. “And I burned the paper.”

  “I don’t either,” Pia said. “Maybe she just dropped it off herself.”

  “Well, if it was from her,” Dr. Hudson said, “that’s a possibility. And if she’s really selling children, that’s a police matter. But they’ll need proof to start an investigation.”

  “She threatened to take Cooper if I didn’t pay,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Isn’t that proof enough?”

  He shook his head again. “That would be your word against hers. Not to mention, we don’t even know where she is, so how can we send the police after her?”

  Pia looked at Mrs. Hudson with flooding eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Pia,” Mrs. Hudson said. “We’ll talk about this again at dinner, all right? I’m sure we’ll figure something out, but right now, we need to get back to the children. I’ve already left them longer than I’d intended.”

  Pia nodded and followed her out of the office, nearly swallowed by despair. How would they ever find out if Nurse Wallis knew anything about Ollie and Max if they couldn’t find her? All she could do was pray the nurse would come back for the rest of her money. But even then, what would they do if she did? Force her to confess? Tie her up until the police arrived? It didn’t seem likely.

  Back in the kitchen, Elizabeth was out of her high chair and standing on the table, Cream of Wheat smeared on her hands and dress and her hair. Margaret was jumping up and down on a chair, singing “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,” and three-year-old Sophie was in her seat balancing a prune-smeared plate on her head. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Hudson gasped and rushed over to Cooper’s cradle, shouting at Margaret to get down from the chair. Pia picked up Elizabeth and took the runny plate off Sophie’s head, anger and shock lighting up her chest. How could Rebecca leave the children unattended? And where was she?

  Then Mrs. Hudson cried, “He’s gone!”

  The hair on the back of Pia’s neck stood up. “What?” she said.

  “Cooper is gone!” Mrs. Hudson yelled.

  “Margaret,” Pia said, her voice high and tight. “Where did Rebecca go? Tell me right now.”

  Still standing on the chair, Margaret pointed at the door leading out to the front hall. “She went upstairs because Cooper needed a clean diaper. She said he made a doodoo.” She giggled. “What’s a doodoo, Mommy?”

  Mrs. Hudson sighed in relief and put a hand to her forehead, swaying slightly. Then she went over to the table to help Margaret down from the chair. “She wasn’t supposed to pick him up,” she said. “And she certainly wasn’t supposed to leave you girls alone.” Her voice cracked with anger.

  Pia put Elizabeth back in her high chair and wiped the Cream of Wheat from her face. “I’ll go see what they’re up to,” she said.

  “Please do,” Mrs. Hudson said. “And send her back down here right away. I need to have a word with her.” She took Sophie over to the sink to wash the prune juice from her hair.

  Pia hurried out of the kitchen and down the hall, unease swirling in the pit of her stomach. Cooper’s diaper had just been changed. And even if he’d dirtied it again so soon, Rebecca had been told not to pick him up. If she needed this job as badly as she claimed, why would she disobey Mrs. Hudson? It didn’t make sense. She padded quickly up the stairs and rushed toward the nursery, her apprehension growing with every step. What if Rebecca had lied to Margaret about the diaper? What if she wasn’t upstairs at all? When she reached the nursery door, she stopped in her tracks, stunned by what she was seeing.

  Rebecca sat in the rocking chair, her face wet with tears, her blouse unbuttoned, Cooper at her naked breast. When she looked up and saw Pia, she put a gentle hand on his small head and held him closer.

  Pia flew across the room and reached for the baby. “Give him to me,” she deman
ded.

  Rebecca shook her head. “No,” she said in a quiet voice. “Not yet.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Pia said. “Give him to me now.”

  “No, I won’t,” Rebecca said. “My milk is coming back.”

  “He’s not your baby,” Pia said, fury twisting in her chest. “He’s not Simon.”

  “I know,” Rebecca croaked. “I know he’s not my son.” Misery flooded her eyes.

  Pia tried to take him, but Rebecca tightened her grip. They struggled for a moment, but Pia let go, afraid of hurting him. “Let me have him,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Just then, footsteps pounded down the hall and Mrs. Hudson came into the nursery with Elizabeth on her hip, Sophie and Margaret on her heels. When she saw Cooper suckling at Rebecca’s breast, she came to a halt, the blood draining from her face.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” she cried. She thrust Elizabeth into Pia’s arms and went to take Cooper from Rebecca. “Give him to me!”

  At first Rebecca resisted, but then she let go. Mrs. Hudson snatched the baby and backed away, staring at her like she was a raving lunatic. Rebecca’s hands went limp in her lap, a thin drizzle of milk leaking from her breast onto her powder blue blouse, creamy wet blotches growing gray.

  “Sophie and Margaret,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Go to your room. Now.”

  “But, Mommy,” Margaret started. “We just—”

  “Don’t make me tell you again,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Go to your room this instant. Pia will come get you in a few minutes.”

  The girls turned their lips under, pouting, but they moved away from the door and did as they were told.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “But he was starting to fuss and I... I couldn’t help myself.”

  Mrs. Hudson pointed a trembling finger at the nursery door. “Get out of my house,” she said, her words rattled by rage. “And don’t ever come back.”

  “Please, ma’am,” Rebecca said. “I’ll never do it again, I promise. It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Mrs. Hudson said. “A mistake is tearing a sheet or dropping a plate. This was not a mistake. You need to get out of my house now, before I have my husband send for the police.”

  Rivers of tears spilled down Rebecca’s cheeks. “Please,” she cried. “I’m sorry I lied to you earlier, ma’am, but... my baby... my precious Simon... he passed away right after he was born. His father promised marriage, but then he left, and I...” She leaned forward and buried her face in her clawed hands. “I just miss my baby boy so much.”

  Mrs. Hudson held Cooper to her chest, her eyes filling. “I’m sorry about your son, I truly am, but you can’t... you shouldn’t have... Cooper is my baby. He’s my son.”

  Rebecca straightened, scraping her fingers down her cheeks. “I know he’s yours, ma’am,” she said. “You’re right. He’s your son. And I had no right to... I just...” She pushed herself up from the rocking chair and buttoned her blouse with shaking fingers, swaying like she’d had too much whiskey. “I just hope you know how lucky you are to have so many children, and to have the means to take care of them all. Not every mother is so blessed.”

  “I know how lucky I am,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

  Rebecca nodded, then half walked, half staggered toward the door, her bloodshot eyes blinking as though she’d just woken up from a nightmare.

  Mrs. Hudson watched her stumble out of the nursery, tears wetting her face, then handed Cooper to Pia. “Please go take care of the children,” she said. “I need to make sure she leaves.”

  “Do you want me to get Dr. Hudson?” Pia said.

  “No,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I can handle this on my own.”

  * * *

  The following Sunday, after announcing that the number of flu cases had dropped sufficiently over the past week, Dr. Hudson told Pia he’d hired a hansom cab to take them to her family’s old apartment in the Fifth Ward. Mrs. Hudson insisted they wear masks on the trip, and Dr. Hudson agreed they shouldn’t take any chances despite the promising reports that the flu might finally be coming to an end. Pia didn’t care either way, she only hoped against hope that she’d find news about her brothers or Vater. It had been months since the war ended; surely he’d found his way home by now.

  Staring out the cab window, she felt like she’d been let out of prison. How long had she been holed up at the Hudsons’? With everything that had happened, she’d lost track of time. Days blurred into weeks and weeks blurred into months and the months felt like years. As usual, she searched the sidewalks for familiar faces, for Ollie and Max, Vater and Finn. And, of course, Nurse Wallis. At least if she saw someone she knew this time, Dr. Hudson would make the driver stop and let her out.

  When they arrived in front of her old row house, she got out of the cab on shaking legs. If she found her father, how would she explain what had happened to Ollie and Max? Would he understand? Would he blame her and be angry? She gripped her elbows and stared up at the window to their old apartment, shivering while Dr. Hudson paid the driver to wait. To her surprise, she realized she’d never wanted to see the place again. Because other than the possibility of finding out what happened to her loved ones, never coming back here would have been fine. The cramped, dim rooms of 408 Shunk Alley held too many bad memories—Vater leaving for the war, Mutti dying of the flu, Ollie and Max inside the dark cubby.

  “Are you ready?” Dr. Hudson said, making her jump.

  She nodded, then swallowed and led him up the front steps.

  Stepping around crumpled newspaper pages, a rusted bucket, and shards of broken glass, they made their way across the dim foyer and started up the stairs. Plaster and dirt gritted under their shoes, and the smell of boiled cabbage and fried onions filled the corridors. For a fleeting moment she remembered what it felt like to be returning home after school, looking forward to eating dinner with her parents and playing with Ollie and Max. The light, happy feeling of being carefree, before the world went dark and her life was turned upside down, flickered just within reach. Then it disappeared as fast as it came, replaced by the horrible, heavy crush of heartache and grief.

  When they reached the fourth floor, she hurried to the door of what used to be her family’s home, certain her heart was going to burst from her chest. What if a different family lived there now and she had to explain herself all over again? What if they didn’t understand English either? What if they refused to answer the door? She took a deep breath, knocked, and glanced up at Dr. Hudson. He gave her a reassuring smile, but doubt muddied his eyes. Seconds seemed like hours as they waited for someone to answer. She bit her lower lip and knocked again. Finally, the handle turned and the door opened. A dark-haired woman with a tired face stood holding a baby on her hip. To Pia’s relief, it was the same woman who was there before.

  “Visszajöttél?” the woman said, smiling warmly. She gestured for Pia and Dr. Hudson to come inside.

  Dr. Hudson took off his derby and followed Pia into the apartment. The two children who’d been on the bed the first time she returned looked up from where they were playing, the same doll and wooden top on the floor between them. The scraggily bearded man was nowhere to be seen, and she wondered what happened to him. After being in the Hudsons’ beautiful house, the rooms she used to call home seemed even smaller and darker now, the floors and walls and cupboards and dishes peeling and coated with grime, the curtains and bedding dirty and ragged. She’d never understood how poor they really were until now. The difference between this home and the Hudsons’ was like night and day, black and white, diamonds and dirt. Again she asked herself why God allowed such injustice. Why should some suffer based on matters of luck and circumstance and place of birth? On top of everything else, she felt like kicking herself. Why hadn’t she asked Mrs. Hudson to send food and clean linens for these poor people? The Hudsons certainly had enough to spare. Maybe Dr. Hudson could give them some cash before they left. He looked dazed by what he
was seeing.

  The woman pointed at him, her eyebrows raised. “Ez az apád?”

  Pia didn’t understand her words, but she knew what the woman was thinking. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “This isn’t my father.”

  The woman cocked her head, frowning.

  Pia made a writing motion with her hand. “Did Vater come back here? Did you give him my note?”

  The woman shook her head, then went over to the dusty shelf above the table, reached inside the blue vase, and handed Pia a piece of folded paper. Pia’s throat constricted. It was the note she’d left for her father, covered in a thin layer of soot. He hadn’t come back yet. Then the woman pulled another piece of folded paper out of the vase. It was yellow. A telegram.

  Pia’s stomach twisted in on itself, a writhing coil of fear nearly bending her over. She glanced at Dr. Hudson to make sure he was still there, then took the telegram and opened it with shaking fingers.

  WASHINGTON, D.C. JANUARY 7, 1919

  MRS. AMELIA LANGE

  SHUNK ALLEY, ROOM 408, PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

  DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT PRIVATE KARL LANGE IS OFFICIALLY REPORTED AS KILLED IN ACTION OCTOBER 9, 1918.

  HARRIS, THE ADJUTANT GENERAL

  Pia doubled over, the black space in her heart expanding with a painful jolt. She dropped the telegram and crumpled to the floor, every muscle and bone aching with renewed grief. A few words written on a piece of paper had destroyed her last fragment of hope that her father might return. Now it was certain. She’d never see him again. He’d never be coming home to help her find the twins. She’d never be able to tell him she loved him again. Images flashed in her mind: Vater carrying her into the woods on one shoulder, patiently waiting while she picked pinecones from the evergreens; him teaching her how to sound out the words in the newspaper; and the happy smile on his face when he held his sons for the first time. Her mind raced back to the day he left for the army. Had she squeezed his hand twice like she used to, to make sure he knew how much she loved him? Surely she’d said it out loud. Surely she’d hugged him and made him promise to be careful. But had she told him in their special secret way how much she cared? She couldn’t remember. Then a gruesome image assaulted her: her beloved father in an army uniform lying dead in a field, bloody bullet holes in his chest, his pale face covered in gore. No! her mind screamed. This can’t be real! He can’t be dead!