The Orphan Collector

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  “We tried knocking,” Finn said. “She didn’t answer.”

  Pia wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, only partly pretending. “May we come inside for a few minutes?” she said. “It’s quite chilly out here in the hall.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But the wife and I were just getting ready to have dinner and now it’s getting cold. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like my soup lukewarm.” He chuckled, trying to act friendly and humorous, but his expression looked forced.

  Pia pretended to laugh too, and started to step over the threshold. “Well, maybe your wife could help us. Sometimes women are better at remembering things, especially when it comes to children.”

  The man held up a hand, frowning. “Please,” he said. “She isn’t feeling well. And I don’t think we can help you anyway. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get back to—”

  “Who is it, dear?” a woman said behind him. She came to the door and stood beside him, wiping her hands on her apron and smiling at Pia and Finn. She was a petite woman, with wispy gray hair and a shiny, smooth face, the skin at her temples marbled with tiny blue veins.

  “I don’t know who they are,” the man said. “But they’re asking about the twins.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed.

  The hair on the back of Pia’s neck stood up. He said the twins. “So you know who I’m talking about,” she said.

  The man gazed at the woman with troubled eyes, the shadow of regret clouding his face.

  The woman gave his arm a comforting pat and grinned sadly at Pia. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My husband is getting a little forgetful in his old age. Perhaps you can tell me what we can do for you.”

  “Who did he mean when he said the twins?” Pia said.

  The woman raised her eyebrows and smiled a little too brightly. “I’m not sure. Did you say something to him about twins perhaps? Like I said, he gets easily confused.”

  Pia tried to stay calm. “No, I didn’t,” she said, her voice trembling. “But my twin brothers have been missing since they were babies. And I have reason to believe your neighbor stole them after my mother died during the flu epidemic.”

  The woman’s face fell and her smile disappeared. She stared at Pia in disbelief, her thin lips pressed into a hard line. It was impossible to tell if she was shocked or angry.

  “A friend of mine saw her with them,” Pia continued. “She said an older couple took them for a walk in a baby pram. Do you remember if Bernice ever had twin boys?”

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “But I don’t know anyone named Bernice. Perhaps you’re in the wrong building.” Her voice had turned hard, her eyes glassy.

  “She meant to say Nurse Wallis,” Finn said.

  The woman swallowed and glanced at her husband, bewilderment and something that looked like fear passing between them.

  “Yes, I meant your neighbor, Nurse Wallis,” Pia said. “Her real name is Bernice Groves.”

  The man shook his head and dropped his watery gaze to the floor. Either he didn’t believe them or he was ashamed; it was hard to tell. The old woman grasped his hand, her face suddenly filled with misery. She searched Pia’s eyes as if looking for the truth there. Pia thought she might scream before the woman said something.

  “She broke our hearts,” the woman finally said.

  The man nodded, sniffing, and wiped his wrist under his nose.

  “What do you mean she broke your hearts?” Pia said. “How?”

  “Those boys were like grandchildren to us,” the woman said.

  Pia’s breath caught in her chest, a rush of emotions surging through her like a thousand lightning bolts. If Finn hadn’t been standing right beside her she would have fallen over. These people knew the twins. They knew Ollie and Max!

  “That’s right,” the man said. “The good Lord never saw fit to give us children of our own. So when she and the boys showed up out of the blue, we thought our prayers had been answered. They lived with us for a while. We even watched the twins while she went to work. And we were starting to think of her as a daughter, until—”

  “We never understood how a mother could give her children away so easily,” the woman interrupted. “Or why she wouldn’t tell us where they were, especially when she knew how much we loved them.” Tears filled her eyes. “But if what you’re saying is true, maybe she didn’t care about them as much as we thought.”

  Pia’s heart instantly dropped, her elation replaced by despair. No. This couldn’t be another dead end. It just couldn’t be. The hallway felt like it was closing in, getting ready to crush her. She struggled to find her voice. Finn slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. She barely felt it. “It’s true,” she managed.

  “Are you saying you don’t know where the boys are?” Finn said.

  The woman regarded her husband, a question on her face, her chin trembling.

  “Tell them,” her husband said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PIA

  After introducing themselves as Ben and Louise Patterson, the elderly couple invited Finn and Pia inside. They sat in the parlor, Ben in an overstuffed chair, Louise wringing her hands on the edge of an ottoman, and Pia next to Finn on the davenport. Louise had offered them tea and biscuits, but Pia politely declined. Between waiting to hear what the Pattersons were going to say about her brothers and picturing Bernice dead on the floor just a few feet away on the other side of a wall decorated with oval-framed portraits, the Lord’s Prayer in cross-stitch, and a vase filled with peacock feathers on a shelf, she felt like she might get sick. The dark eyes of the people in the photographs seemed to bore through her, judging her as if they knew what she’d done.

  “We’d never seen her act that way,” Louise said. “It just came out of the blue one day.”

  Shaking his head in disgust, Ben dug a pipe from his vest pocket and cupped it in his wrinkled hand like a baby bird.

  “She came home that day close to hysterics,” Louise said. “We still don’t know why. But we almost called a doctor because she kept saying she had to get rid of the twins, that she couldn’t do it anymore.”

  Ben nodded and put the pipe between his teeth, searching his pocket with one finger for tobacco.

  “Couldn’t do what anymore?” Pia said.

  “Take care of them,” Louise said. “She said it was too difficult and she was going to send them away on an orphan train.”

  Pia’s stomach twisted in on itself. No. Please, God. Not when I’m this close.

  “She said people out West were willing to take in children,” Ben said. “Said someone would be happy to have twin boys and she wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore.”

  “We begged her to give them to us, but she refused,” Louise said. “We even offered her money, but she wouldn’t take it.”

  “Not at first, she wouldn’t,” Ben said. He stuffed his pipe with tobacco and lit it. “But we doubled our offer.”

  Pia swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m confused,” she said. “Are you saying she took your offer?”

  “Yes,” Louise said. “But that only guaranteed she wouldn’t send the boys away on the train. We still couldn’t have them.”

  “And you agreed to that?” Pia said. On top of everything else, she was getting dizzy. She glanced at Finn to make sure he was still there. He took her hand and held on tight. She tried concentrating on the warmth of his skin, the width of his palm, anything to distract her from having the vapors. It was no use. She started shaking.

  “It was the only way we could get her to promise she’d keep them in the city,” Louise said. “But only if we agreed not to ask where they were or try to find them.”

  Pia bit her lip, trying not to scream. The Pattersons were her only link to Ollie and Max, and they had been nice enough to invite them in and answer her questions, but she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “How did you know she didn’t send them away anyway?”
>
  Louise shrugged. “We didn’t.”

  Pia stood and started to pace, frustration and nerves boiling from her chest into her head. “So you have no idea where they are,” she said. Her tone was hard, but she couldn’t help it. “You have no idea what Bernice did with them.”

  “We didn’t say that,” Ben said.

  Pia turned to face him, her vision blurred by tears. “Then what are you saying? Please, tell me before I go mad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  PIA

  Wearing her favorite crepe dress and high heels, Pia hurried around the table in the Hudsons’ dining room, putting cloth napkins at each place setting and straightening the silverware. After working with Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen all afternoon, peeling potatoes and making biscuits for the beef stew, stirring the cranberry tapioca, and keeping an eye on the buttered beets, she’d finger-waved her hair and put on a little lipstick and rouge, hoping it would make her look more approachable. Now she picked up a water glass and polished it with an extra napkin, her hands unsteady. Upstairs, the children ran through the house, laughing and playing and shouting.

  She tried not to think about whether or not Ben and Louise Patterson would be able to keep their promise, but it was hard not to hope. If they couldn’t follow through with it, more than likely she’d fall apart—for a little while anyway, until she figured out what to do next. Either way, she wasn’t about to give up, not when she was this close to finding Ollie and Max.

  When she’d told Dr. and Mrs. Hudson who Nurse Wallis really was and everything she’d been doing, they were shocked and appalled. Dr. Hudson promised to let the orphanages and poorhouses know too, with the hopes that, in the future, they would be more vigilant about who took their children. He also met with the police and, after an autopsy proved Bernice had suffered a massive brain hemorrhage, made sure her remains were taken to the nearest funeral home. The Pattersons offered to pay for her burial because she had no other family that they knew of, and because, despite what she’d done, she was the closest thing to a daughter they’d ever had. Louise said you could still love people despite their faults, but Pia wasn’t sure someone like Bernice deserved to be loved. Not only had she gotten away with taking Ollie and Max without being punished, she had sold babies, and was so filled with hate that she’d sent children away on trains because they were immigrants. Some things were too evil to forgive. Then again, Mutti always said God made the final judgment on them all, so maybe Bernice was getting what she deserved anyway.

  “You look nice,” someone said behind her.

  She startled and spun around, almost dropping the water glass. It was Finn, in a new jacket and fresh-pressed trousers. His face was clean-shaven, his hair slicked back from his handsome face.

  “You scared me half to death,” she said. She set down the glass and swatted him with the napkin.

  He caught it and drew her toward him, grinning. “I meant to,” he said.

  She pulled away. “What if I’d dropped the glass?”

  “I would have picked it up,” he said.

  “Ha ha,” she said. “Very funny. I’m about ready to have the vapors and you’re making jokes. What if the glass had broken and I had a mess to clean up on top of everything else?”

  He ran gentle fingers along her forehead, pushing a stray piece of hair from her eyes. “Try to relax, lass, there’s no reason to be so nervous.”

  She sighed and rested a hand on his arm. It felt wonderful, after all this time, to finally enjoy human contact. She was surprised by how pleasant it could be. Luckily Finn hadn’t been frightened off when she explained what Dr. Hudson called her sixth sense. In fact, he thought she was courageous for using her gift to help other people and said it only proved what he knew all along, that she was special.

  “What if they don’t come?” she said.

  “They will.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Mr. and Mrs. Patterson said they were nice people. I’m sure after they hear what happened they’ll—”

  “Either that, or they’ll leave town.”

  “They won’t do that.”

  “All right. But what if they don’t like me?”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “Of course they’ll like you. What’s not to like?”

  Just then, Dr. and Mrs. Hudson came into the room, her in a blue two-piece dress, him in a tailored gray suit and black vest. Dr. Hudson had grown a full blond beard that reminded Pia of a Viking, and his hair had started to turn white over his temples. Even with a few gray hairs and added wrinkles, the Hudsons made a striking pair.

  “Is everything ready?” Mrs. Hudson said.

  “I think so,” Pia said.

  Dr. Hudson leaned out the door and shouted up the stairs. “Come along, children. We need to sit and get settled down while we wait for our special guests.”

  What sounded like a hundred footsteps pounded down the stairs and raced along the hall, punctuated by shouting and laughter. Sophie appeared first, a white bow askew in her hair, slowing to a walk when she reached the door. Then came Margaret and Elizabeth, their braids tied in matching ribbons, the waists of their ruffled dresses crooked and bunched. Cooper followed in an Indian headband with a single feather and carrying a bow and arrow. Mrs. Hudson chuckled and rolled her eyes, then plucked the headband from his head, took the bow and arrow, and started out of the room with it. Pia fixed Sophie’s hair and straightened the other girls’ dresses.

  Then the doorbell rang, and she froze.

  Cooper started toward the hall, anxious to see who was there. Dr. Hudson caught him by the collar and held him back. “I’ll get it, young man,” he said.

  Mrs. Hudson stashed the bow and arrow in the sideboard instead of taking it out of the dining room and ordered the children to sit. “I want you on your best behavior, now,” she said. “Pia is expecting some very important company, and I won’t have you causing a ruckus.”

  “Yes, Mother,” the children said in unison.

  Pia waited next to Finn with her heart in her throat, giving him a nervous glance. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re going to do what’s right, I just know it.”

  She tried to smile to show her gratitude, but her lips trembled. It was all she could do not to cry. Dr. Hudson’s voice traveled down the corridor, along with a woman’s quiet muttering. Pia clenched her jaw and locked her knees. What if they didn’t come? What if it was Mrs. Patterson coming to apologize? Then Dr. Hudson entered and stepped aside, his face giving nothing away. When Pia saw who it was, her shoulders dropped.

  Rebecca stood in the doorway holding a brown paper sack. “I picked up some candy for the children,” she said.

  Berating herself for forgetting she’d invited Rebecca, Pia went over to her, took the bag, and led her into the dining room. “That was nice of you, thank you.”

  “Where are they?” Rebecca said.

  “They’re not here yet,” Pia said.

  “Are you sure they’re coming?”

  “No,” Pia said. “I’m not sure of anything.”

  Rebecca hugged the children one by one, and gave Cooper an extra kiss on the cheek. He scowled and wiped it off. She laughed and ruffled his hair, then stood next to Finn.

  Pia had to admit she’d been shocked when Mrs. Hudson agreed to allow Rebecca to visit Cooper after learning he was her son, but then again, the Hudsons had always been the kindest people she’d ever known. Cooper was never to know Rebecca was his mother, of course, but Rebecca was beyond grateful just to see him. The Hudsons even agreed to let her stop by on his birthday and holidays, treating her like an old friend. Pia marveled at their generosity and courage. She could only hope they weren’t the only people with generous hearts.

  “Who is coming again?” Sophie said. “I forgot.”

  “Why did we have to get all dressed up?” Elizabeth whined. “My collar itches.”

  “Stop fussing, girls,” Mr
s. Hudson said. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Pia scanned the faces in the room, her heart overflowing with gratitude and love for each and every one of them. She couldn’t believe they were all here, ready to care for and help her, no matter what happened next. Dr. and Mrs. Hudson had been good to her all these years; Finn had found his way back home; and finally, with Rebecca’s help, she had unraveled the mystery of what happened to Ollie and Max. Most importantly, she’d found out for certain that they were alive. Maybe that would have to be enough. Maybe tonight was asking too much. Maybe every person on earth had only a certain number of answered prayers and she had run out.

  When the doorbell rang again, she nearly cried out. Despite her earlier decision to wait in the dining room to avoid looking too eager, she followed Dr. Hudson into the hall and out to the foyer. She couldn’t just stand there and wait to see what happened. Her nerves wouldn’t allow it. She hurried past Dr. Hudson, braced herself, and yanked open the front door.

  Mr. and Mrs. Patterson stood on the porch, holding the hands of two young boys, each grasping a wooden truck. A young couple stood beside them, staring at Pia with nervous eyes.

  Pia felt herself sway, slightly enough that no one else would have noticed, but enough to send a rush of panic through her. She couldn’t faint. Not here. Not now. She reached blindly for the doorframe with one hand and her temple with the other. A loud noise pounded in her head; at the same time, she could hear the wind in the leaves outside and the birds squawking in the trees.

  She would have known the boys anywhere.

  She went down on one trembling knee and smiled at them, trying not to fall over or cry. She wanted to hug and kiss them and tell them how sorry she was, but she worried it would scare them away. It was too soon.

  “Well, hello there,” she said, her voice quivering. “What are your names?”

  They looked at her with matching sets of cobalt-blue eyes. Mutti’s eyes.

  “Mason,” the one on the left said.

  “I’m Owen,” the other one said. “Daddy says I’m the oldest.”