The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  She got up and checked her reflection in the mirror next to the curio cabinet, suddenly remembering she’d been out in the rain and probably looked like a drowned rat. Running her fingers through her damp hair and pushing a few unruly locks behind her ears, her hands started to shake. What did he think of her now that she was a woman? Did he think she was attractive? At nineteen, she resembled Mutti in more ways than she could count, from her thin nose to her arched brows and cobalt-blue eyes. She thought that was a good thing—in her mind, Mutti was the prettiest woman she’d ever seen—but she’d never asked anyone’s opinion. When she and Finn were younger, she hadn’t cared. So what difference did it make now? She rolled her eyes and went back over to the chair to sit down, berating herself for being so foolish. They were only friends. For all she knew, he could be married now.

  When he came into the parlor a little while later, he was wearing the clean shirt, vest, and trousers, his hair slicked back from his face, his cheeks scrubbed and red from shaving. She glanced up when he came in, then quickly looked away and started pouring the tea. For the first time since he arrived, she noticed the chiseled line of his jaw and cheekbones, the deep emerald of his kind eyes. Her best friend had grown into a handsome man. Maybe she should have changed out of her damp dress.

  Keeping her eyes on the serving tray to hide her flushed face, she said, “So what happened when you got to Iowa and no one was waiting for you? What did you do?”

  He sat in the opposite chair and sighed. She couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief because it felt good to be clean and wearing fresh clothes, or a sigh of frustration because of her question. Likely it was a combination of both.

  “I survived best I could,” he said. “That’s what I did. I found work on a farm and saved my pay until I had enough money to come back here. First thing I did was go to St. Vincent’s to look for you.”

  She handed him a cup of tea, hoping he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “Who told you where I was?”

  “Mother Joe. I wasn’t sure she’d remember me, but she did after I told her that the bloody nurse who put me on the train lied about someone being on the other end.”

  Pia started to pick up her teacup, then stopped. “What nurse?”

  “Remember the time we lads had to line up in the rec room and that nurse took Kafka, Gerhard, and his brother?”

  Her heart started to race. He was talking about Nurse Wallis. She nodded.

  “Well, later that night Sister Ernestine took me to Mother Joe’s office and that same nurse was there waiting for me.”

  Pia could hardly breathe. “Nurse Wallis.”

  He took a sip of his tea, then set it down on the tray. “Nay, Bernice Groves.”

  She shook her head, confused. “What do you mean? The nurse who took Kafka and Gerhard was Nurse Wallis.”

  “Nay, it wasn’t.”

  “Yes, it was. I know Nurse Wallis. She was the one who took Kafka and Gerhard. I’m certain of it. You must have her mixed up with someone else.”

  He frowned, his brows knitted. “Nay, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You don’t remember Bernice? She lived two doors down from us in the same row house, and she was mean as a mule. My brothers and I called her Old Biddy Bernice because she used to call us dirty Irish boys and make smart-ass remarks about my mother’s brogue.”

  She shook her head and picked up her tea. “No, sorry. I don’t remember her.”

  “What d’ ye mean you don’t remember her? How could you forget? She was a real bucket of piss, that one. She’s the woman who yelled at your mam about your father stealing her pa’s job, said it put him in his grave.”

  She shook her head again, getting more and more perplexed. Why was he talking about this Bernice person? What did she have to do with anything? “I wasn’t there when that happened. I only heard about it after it was over. And I had no idea who my mother was talking about.”

  “So you’re saying ye didn’t recognize her when you saw her at St. Vincent’s, all dressed up in that nurse outfit? I did, right off. And I knew she weren’t no nurse. She recognized me too. When she put me on the train that night, she said she was doing it to clear the city of riffraff and immigrants. But I think she did it so I wouldn’t tell the sisters she was lying about who she was.”

  Pia suddenly went rigid, her body turning to ice. In that moment, everything clicked into place. Nurse Wallis’s reaction when she first saw her at St. Vincent’s the day she dropped off the Romanian baby, her refusal to help look for the twins, her anger, her accusations, her questions. She knew who Pia was because she used to live in the same neighborhood. She knew she was German because she had argued with Mutti.

  And she knew Ollie and Max.

  Pia started shaking, her teacup rattling against the saucer. She put the cup down and slumped back in the chair, dizziness sweeping over her.

  Finn got up and knelt beside her. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Are ye feeling ill?”

  Pia shook her head, her eyes filling. “Bernice was the one who took Ollie and Max.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  PIA

  The day after Pia learned Nurse Wallis was really Bernice Groves, she sat next to Finn on the other side of Mother Joe’s desk in the office at St. Vincent’s Orphan Asylum. Being back in the orphanage was unsettling to say the least; it felt like she’d stepped back in time, to a part of her life she’d give everything to forget. Except she was an adult now and could leave whenever she wanted. That’s what she had to keep telling herself, anyway. The office looked smaller somehow, but the smell of moldy wood, stale incense, and old potatoes still filled the air, as if the place had been locked up for a hundred years. The only difference was the number of group photos on the wall behind Mother Joe’s head. There were more now, each new frame filled with the haunted, somber faces of children who had lost—or been deserted by—those who were supposed to love them most of all. Just looking at them made Pia want to cry. She pulled her eyes away and reminded herself why she was there.

  “When was the last time you saw Bernice Groves?” Finn asked Mother Joe.

  “He means Nurse Wallis,” Pia said. “Wallis wasn’t her real name. Does she come here anymore?” She waited for Mother Joe to reprimand her for not addressing her properly, but that didn’t happen, which was a good thing. Pia might have laughed or told her to go to hell, and that wouldn’t have gotten them anywhere. The old nun couldn’t tell her what to do anymore. And she didn’t deserve respect. But now was not the time to tell her that.

  Mother Joe folded her age-spotted hands on the desk and blinked, thinking. The last six years had not been kind to her. One eyelid drooped lower than the other, sagging over one milky eye like a piece of dead skin, and her wimple looked two sizes too big, the rippled sides gaping around her shrunken face like a stretched rag.

  “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s been years since Nurse Wallis came by. Like I told Dr. Hudson when he called, she just stopped coming one day, I don’t know why. I assumed something had happened to her.”

  “I know Dr. Hudson asked you this before,” Pia said. “But are you sure you don’t know anything about her? You don’t know her address or have any way to get in touch with her?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mother Joe said. “But I don’t.”

  “What about one of the other nuns?” Pia said. “Like Sister Agnes or Sister Ernestine? Maybe they know something.”

  Mother Joe shook her head, the saggy wimple flopping against her sharp cheekbones. “Sister Agnes was assigned to another post nearly two years ago. And Sister Ernestine, bless her soul, went to be with our Father in heaven six months ago. We found her face-down in the play yard one day, the poor dear. The doctor said her heart just stopped.”

  The news about Sister Ernestine was no surprise—Pia remembered feeling her heart slow when she’d grabbed her. She wanted to ask Mother Joe why she thought someone like her deserved to go to heaven, and how she could pretend
to be unaware of the horrible things she’d done. But she had more important things on her mind. At least Sister Ernestine wouldn’t be beating children at St. Vincent’s anymore. “I’m sorry,” she said, because it was the right thing to say.

  “What about the other nurses who come here?” Finn said. “Was Bernice... I mean, Nurse Wallis friends with any of them? Maybe they’d know where to find her.”

  “Oh no,” Mother Joe said. “Nurse Wallis was truly one of a kind. It’s a rare thing for nurses to stop out here on their own. But she came here because she wanted to help our children, not to mention what she did for our unwed mothers.”

  “What did she do for the unwed mothers?” Pia said.

  “Why, found good homes for their babies, of course.”

  Of course. Pia thought. Her stomach shriveled, thinking about Nurse Wallis taking and selling the babies of women and girls who were already scared and heartbroken. Did Mother Joe know about that too? The thought of it made her sick. But she had to stay calm. She couldn’t afford to upset Mother Joe or accuse her of anything. Not yet, anyway. “You must have those records then,” she said. “Maybe one of the unwed mothers would know how to get in touch with Nurse Wallis.”

  “Heavens, no,” Mother Joe said. “Those records are sealed. I couldn’t possibly share anything with you about the young women we assisted.”

  Pia sat forward in her seat. “But you have to help me,” she said. “Nurse Wallis wasn’t a real nurse, and I have reason to believe she stole my brothers.”

  Mother Joe’s milky eyes grew wide. “That’s a serious accusation, Miss Lange.”

  “I realize that,” Pia said. “But she lived in my neighborhood and knew my family. Except I didn’t know that until—”

  “I’m sorry,” Mother Joe said. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you. In my heart of hearts, I don’t believe Nurse Wallis would steal your brothers. Help them? Yes. But steal them and keep their whereabouts from you? I don’t believe it. She was one of the kindest women I’ve ever met.”

  “Bloody hell,” Finn said. “We’re sitting here telling you she lied about who she was and you’re defending her? I haven’t even gotten to the part where she lied to you about me being adopted and put me on a train instead. What good reason would she have for doing such right awful things?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Mother Joe said. “But if anything you’re saying is true, and I have a feeling you might be confused, I’m sure she had nothing but the best of intentions.” With that, she pushed herself up from her chair, started around the desk, and shuffled toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

  “What about the finder’s fees?” Pia said. “Did you know she was charging money for the babies she took from St. Vincent’s? She told people it was a donation to help the orphanages.”

  Mother Joe stopped and turned to face them, her sagging lid almost all the way closed.

  “Did she give you money for the children at St. Vincent’s?” Pia said. “Or was she lying about that too?”

  “As a matter of fact, she did,” Mother Joe said. “They weren’t sizable donations, but she gave us what she could spare. And if you had any idea how much money it takes to properly care for so many orphans, care of which you two were beneficiaries, I might add, you’d understand why we’re willing to accept what any kind soul is willing to give.” She started toward the door again. “Now, I suggest you pray for forgiveness for accusing Nurse Wallis of such horrible things, Miss Lange and Mr. Duffy. That woman is deserving of sainthood.”

  Pia and Finn looked at each other and stood, their faces lined with frustration.

  “You’re wrong about her,” Pia said, blinking back angry tears. “And when I find out the truth, you’re going to be the one asking for forgiveness for not helping me sooner. Doesn’t the Bible say learn to do good and seek justice?”

  “Yes, Miss Lange, it does. It also says you shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. You’re welcome to come back and speak to me when, or if, you find proof about what you’re saying. Until then, good day, God bless you, and take good care of yourself.”

  Pia wrapped her arms around herself and followed Finn out of the office, bewildered and stunned into silence by fury and despair. She’d thought for sure Nurse Wallis was still coming to St. Vincent’s and that once she and Finn revealed their suspicions, Mother Joe would be willing to ask the nurse where she lived, or let Dr. Hudson know when she came in again. But the old nun hadn’t seen her in years—and she didn’t believe them, anyway. Either that, or she didn’t care. Now Pia didn’t know what to do.

  She trudged down the hall beside Finn, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Like Mother Joe’s office, the orphanage corridors seemed to have shrunk, but fear and misery still filled the air like a living, breathing thing. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  “Are you all right?” Finn said.

  She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  At the end of the hall, a door opened and a line of young girls with sad faces and ill-fitting clothes filed out and moved toward them. Pia and Finn stepped aside to let them pass. She couldn’t help looking at their desolate, sunken eyes. What had led them there, to such a horrible place? Had their parents died? Abandoned them? Had they gotten lost at the open-air market and been snatched up by the police? Another door opened and two women in dark dresses and damp aprons came out, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Pia gave them a quick glance, then directed her attention back to the young girls. She wanted to rescue them all, to steal them from this prison and take them home, to feed them and love them and let them know they weren’t alone. If Mrs. Hudson could see them, she’d feel the same way. Maybe Pia should bring her here. Maybe they could open their own orphanage and run it with kindness and love.

  “Pia?” someone said behind her.

  Pia turned, surprised to hear someone say her name. The woman’s pale face looked familiar somehow, but Pia couldn’t place her. Maybe it was a girl who’d been at St. Vincent’s at the same time she was there, all grown up. Maybe it was Gigi. Or Jenny. No, the girl didn’t look like either of them. Was it Edith? No, Edith had brown hair; this woman had blond corkscrew curls and blue eyes. Then she remembered.

  “Rebecca?” she said.

  “What are you doing here?” Rebecca said. She eyed Finn with suspicion, then gave Pia a worried look. “Are you in trouble?”

  At first, Pia didn’t understand what Rebecca meant. If she were in trouble, why would she come to St. Vincent’s? Then she remembered St. Vincent’s housed unwed mothers as well as orphans, and heat crawled up her face. Rebecca thought Finn was her boyfriend.

  “No, I’m fine,” Pia said. “We’re just looking for someone.”

  “Who?” Rebecca said.

  “No one you know.” Pia started walking again and Finn followed.

  Rebecca went with them. “Are you sure?” she said. “I’ve been working here ever since I left the Hudsons’. And I gave birth to Simon over at St. Vincent’s home for unwed mothers. I’ve seen a lot and I know a lot.”

  Pia stopped and turned to face her. After what Rebecca had done with Cooper, she didn’t think she could trust her to be honest about anything. But right now she’d take any help she could get. “Do you remember seeing any nurses picking up or dropping off children?”

  “Maybe,” Rebecca said.

  “What about a Nurse Wallis? She was really tall, with dirty blond hair and pasty skin. Mother Joe said she stopped coming years ago, but maybe—”

  “I’ll never forget her,” Rebecca said.

  Pia’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t expected such a quick response. And even though Rebecca sounded sincere, how could Pia believe anything she said? She glanced at Finn, looking for reassurance, but his eyes were locked on Rebecca, waiting to see what she’d say next.

  “Why do you say that?” Pia said.

  “Because she took my son,” Rebecca said.


  Pia gritted her teeth. Rebecca was lying again. “You said your baby died.”

  Rebecca hung her head and clasped her hands together, squeezing until her knuckles turned red. Then she sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. When she looked up again, her eyes were wet. “I said he died because I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

  “What truth?” Pia said. “You’ve changed your story so many times, how am I supposed to know if you’re being honest now?”

  “Because Cooper Hudson is my son. Nurse Wallis stole him and gave him to Dr. and Mrs. Hudson.”

  Pia gasped, her mouth falling open. It made perfect sense. That was why Rebecca had been desperate to work at the Hudsons’, and why she was so enamored with Cooper. That was why she wanted to nurse him and hold him close. “Oh my God,” she said. A hundred questions raced through her mind but she didn’t know what one to ask first. Clearly Mrs. Hudson had been right to worry about where Nurse Wallis had found the babies she sold. Before she could put her spinning thoughts together and form a rational sentence, Rebecca continued.

  “I wanted to work at the Hudsons’ just so I could be near him,” she said. “I knew I couldn’t take care of him properly and I’d planned on giving him up, but she took him without telling me.” Tears started down her cheeks. “I know what I did was wrong, but he was crying and I couldn’t help myself. I’m his mother.” She buried her face in her hands.

  Pia started to say something when a sudden realization hit her. Her heartbeat picked up speed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I truly am. But how did you know where he was? Did Nurse Wallis tell you?”

  Rebecca scraped her fingers under her eyes, trying to swallow her sobs. “No, she didn’t tell me anything. He was underweight and a little sickly, so I thought the nuns were going to see if he’d survive before putting him up for adoption. But two days after he was born, I woke up and he was gone. The nuns said Nurse Wallis had already found him a good home. But I never got to say goodbye.”