“Yes, a fine lad, excellent manners. I was lucky to find him. Now, which one of you is Dr. Savard?”
It took a moment for them to satisfy the need for polite introductions, and then Anna and Elise sat down across a desk as broad as a boat. It was covered with papers and binders and books, but everything seemed to be carefully ordered.
“Now, how can I help you?”
Anna took in a deep breath and told the story of the Russo children, starting with the church basement in Hoboken. She had decided to say nothing of Staten Island in the hope that he would volunteer the information. As she talked she watched his face, broad and unremarkable and unreadable.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for these children,” he said when she had finished.
“We’ve done what we can. We’d like to do more.”
“Why? Why these four children? Why not some other children?”
Anna hesitated. “I don’t have a good answer for that, except that Rosa made an impression on me.”
“You pitied her.”
Anna wondered if this was a provocation. “I felt compassion for all the children, but her situation I found particularly difficult. May I ask why this is relevant?”
He made a tent of his hands, the fingers touching his chin. “The children in my care are vulnerable.” His gaze pivoted to Elise.
“Miss Mercier,” he said. “What’s your interest in the fate of these children?”
At first Anna thought that Elise would simply not answer, but then she cleared her throat. “I was there when the two boys went missing. I’d like to help in any way I can.”
“You feel responsible?”
She nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Father McKinnawae,” Anna said. “We would like to talk to you about the youngest of the children, Vittorio Russo. We believe that he was taken to the Foundling on the twenty-sixth of March, and that you found him there and took him away with you the next day.”
He blinked at her with what she thought was meant to be seen as mild surprise. “Why ever would you think that?”
“We went to the Foundling and looked at the records. Sister Mary Irene remembered the boy because of his unusual coloring. She was very helpful.”
“More helpful than I can be. I’m afraid I have no information for you.” His expression was stony, even hostile.
“You may not remember that you answered a letter of mine some weeks ago and suggested I come see you at Mount Loretto on Staten Island. My husband and I did in fact go to Staten Island on the twenty-sixth of May, but you had been called away because of some emergency.”
He had a polite but empty way of looking at her, as if he were humoring her need to tell a story.
“Brother Jerome gave us a tour, and then we went for a walk on the beach. That’s when we happened to see Vittorio with his adoptive family. He was introduced as Timothy Mullen. We didn’t intrude or ask questions, but I am certain that the boy called Timothy is in fact Vittorio.”
The empty expression gave way to irritation. “Did this child you think is Vittorio Russo seem to be suffering in some way? Underfed? Abused? Uncared for?”
“No,” Anna said. “He looked very content, and he is clearly much loved. Did you place him with the family, Father McKinnawae?”
“I know nothing about a child called Vittorio Russo,” said the priest. “Let me clarify something for you, Dr. Savard. Adoptions are private and anonymous. They are not discussed. With anyone, for any reason. Once a child has been adopted into a family, there is no turning back. It would be terrible for the child and the adoptive parents both. I’m sure you would agree that a child in the situation you’ve described has been through enough, and shouldn’t be wretched from a stable and loving family.”
“So you are saying that Timothy Mullen is not in fact Vittorio Russo.”
A line appeared between his brows, as if she were a dull student giving him a headache. “As I have said, I cannot help you.”
“Let me understand,” Anna said. “If a child were separated from his parents in an emergency—a fire, for example—and they came to you in the hope you might know something of their missing son, a child you had taken in, you would lie to them.”
“That isn’t the situation at hand.”
“But if the child already has a family—”
“Does this boy you’re asking about have parents?”
Anna pulled up. “They are both deceased. But he does have sisters, who love him and miss him.”
“Dr. Savard,” the priest said with great solemnity. “I will try again to make you understand. Where we can, we find good, stable Catholic families to adopt orphaned children, and then we step back and allow those families their privacy. I can’t talk to you about any case, even in hypothetical terms. Do we understand each other now?”
“I understand that I have to tell two little girls who have lost everything that their brother is lost to them too, because the Church won’t allow them to be reunited.”